Roaring Heroes Battle the Overlord (Ainz)

After a brief rest, the group left the tavern and headed towards E-Rantel. A female elf with a purplewood recurve bow led the way.

To be fair, she wasn't a bad person at heart. She knew that the girl taken by the Death Knight was not in mortal danger, so she stopped Franco from his "heroic intervention," preventing a potential clash between the three adventurers and the Death Knight on the territory of the Sorcerer Kingdom.

Like most elves, she was tall and slender, her long legs wrapped in snug, emerald-green leather pants that highlighted her graceful curves. Franco's eyes were glued to her figure as they walked. After a few moments, the ever-lecherous mage finally gave in and approached her with a grin.

Surprisingly, they hit it off right away. A faint, playful smile tugged at the corners of the elf's lips. Franco turned back to Barret and EeDeChi, grinning. "It's all set. This lovely lady from the Elf Country has agreed to be our guide."

"When did we ever say we needed a guide?" EeDeChi muttered to Barret, keeping her voice low. Since she was disguised as a male adventurer, it wouldn't do for anyone to catch on.

"This is just Franco looking for an excuse to flirt," Barret replied with a smirk. "Still, having a guide in a place like E-Rantel isn't the worst idea." He gave a small nod of agreement.

Franco, ever the generous spender when it came to women, pulled out his own coin pouch and handed the "guide" twenty gold coins.

The elf introduced herself as Vaelynn Seraphina, hailing from the Elf Country bordering the Slane Theocracy. At sixty years old, under the guidance of a druid, she became a ranger and left her homeland to travel and adventure across the world. It has now been twenty-six years since she last returned home.

That meant Vaelynn was now seventy-six years old. For humans, that would be old and frail, but for elves—who lived for centuries—she was in her prime, full of energy and life.

Vaelynn Seraphina had come to E-Rantel to sell a few rare treasures she had acquired. She had been to the city more than a dozen times. Though she never settled there, she knew its streets and secrets as well as any local.

"Miss Seraphina, you and I actually share a bit of a connection. I happen to have a quarter of elven blood in me, so I've always admired the greatness of your people..." Franco began, his voice smooth as silk.

Vaelynn didn't mind Franco's charming chatter. Unlike most elves, she was open, carefree, and unrestrained. After twenty-six years of wandering the human world, she had shed the refined, aloof nature of her kin and embraced a wilder, more untamed spirit.

She often joked that if she ever returned to the Elf Country, the forest-dwelling elves would probably turn up their noses at her.

"Is E-Rantel really as amazing as they say?" Barret asked.

"Well…" Vaelynn's expression shifted slightly, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "In my twenty-six years of traveling, E-Rantel is, without a doubt, the most extravagant city I've ever set foot in. Perhaps only the legendary capital of the Eight Greed Kings could compare. The people here live in comfort and prosperity, and the security is unmatched—the crime rate is so low it's practically nonexistent."

Then, with a mischievous smile, she added, "But whether that's the whole truth… well, you'll see soon enough."

Vaelynn's expression hardened in an instant. "Listen carefully. There are three rules you must follow. First, do not say a single bad word about the Sorcerer Kingdom. Not even a whisper.

"Second, do not speak the ruler's name. The only acceptable title is the Supreme One, Lord Ainz.

"Third, no fighting and no magic. Barret, secure your sword. Franco, stow your staff."

The group soon arrived at E-Rantel. The towering granite walls stretched high into the sky, a monument of strength and authority.

Walking beneath them was humbling—like being an ant skittering along the base of a colossal dam. The main road leading to the city gates was paved with smooth, unyielding stone, wide enough for five carriages to travel side by side with ease.

Yet, unlike other cities, there were no soldiers scrutinizing merchants, no officials demanding tolls. Instead, only two towering skeletal sentinels stood guard.

Each of them clutched a sword that shimmered with an icy brilliance, its edge razor-sharp. In the hollow depths of their skulls, golden flames flickered and swayed, like miniature suns burning with an unspoken warning—this was a city where the Sorcerer Kingdom's power was absolute.

Near the entrance, a massive stone monument commanded attention. Bold, elegant lettering was carved into its surface, each groove filled with pure gold, gleaming resplendently beneath the sun:

"Welcome to E-Rantel, a paradise under the protection of the Supreme One, Ainz Ooal Gown. Here, all races live in harmony—no hatred, no bloodshed. Any race that embraces others as kin shall find a home within these walls."

As they passed through the city gates, sprawling streets stretched out before them, lined with orderly rows of refined, picturesque buildings. Lifting their eyes slightly, they immediately caught sight of the tallest structure in the city—a colossal golden statue of Ainz Ooal Gown.

The statue towered over the city, standing half a height taller than the tallest spire. At its feet, even the largest buildings seemed like mere playthings. It clutched a scepter in its left hand, while its right hand extended outward, pointing toward the horizon. Embedded in its eye sockets, two crimson gemstones glowed ominously, as if the figure might come to life at any moment.

They shifted their gaze away from the distant statue that pierced the clouds, continuing to move forward with the crowd.

Before long, they reached a crossroads, where yet another statue of Ainz Ooal Gown stood in the center of the intersection.

Though nowhere near as massive as the first, this statue still loomed three times taller than an average person.

What truly left them speechless, however, was the behavior of the passersby. No matter their race—human, lizardfolk, dwarf, or otherwise—every single one paused before the statue, knelt down, pressed their forehead to the ground, then rose and walked away with heads lowered in reverence.

Even carriage drivers and passengers stopped, stepped down, knelt, and bowed before resuming their journey.

"Doesn't that get exhausting?" Barret murmured, coming to a halt. He observed his surroundings and noted the complete absence of undead enforcers. That meant this ritual—this near-worship—was entirely voluntary.

"Hmph!" EeDeChi scoffed, clearly unimpressed.

"Let's take a different path," Barret suggested. The group quickly altered course, avoiding the statue-laden intersection and slipping down a quieter street.

As they turned the corner, they suddenly found themselves face-to-face with a beholder.

Barret's instincts kicked in, and his hand flew to his sword—beholders were notoriously dangerous creatures.

These floating, spherical monsters were covered in twisting tendrils, each ending in an eerie, unblinking eye. Their enormous central eye dominated the middle of their bodies, just above a gaping maw filled with razor-sharp teeth.

And those eyes weren't just for show. Beholders could unleash deadly magical rays—capable of disintegrating objects, petrifying flesh, or manipulating their surroundings with telekinesis.

But Barret hesitated. Something was off. The beholder was constantly shifting, its massive eye scanning the streets, yet it showed no signs of hostility.

More importantly, it wasn't roaming freely. Instead, it was perched atop a towering, cylindrical pedestal, as though it belonged there—like a fixture of the city.

After watching for a moment and confirming it posed no threat, the group moved on.

They strolled leisurely through the streets, taking in the sights. The city buzzed with activity as beings of all shapes and sizes went about their day, chatting and trading. It was like walking through a grand exhibition of different races.

Aarakocra merchants sold rare birds, creatures so elusive they were nearly impossible to capture in the skies. Dark elves walked under elegant parasols, carefully examining freshly unearthed gemstones at a minotaur's stall.

Inside a blacksmith's shop, the sharp clang of metal against metal rang out as a burly, bearded dwarf pounded away at his anvil. Outside, blades of all shapes and sizes gleamed menacingly under the light, neatly arranged on wooden racks. Towering orcs strode through the packed streets, carrying massive sacks with ease.

Overhead, shadows flickered as a white dragon soared across the sky. Suspended from its powerful claws was a cargo container, swaying gently as it transported goods high above the city.

"Huh. Interesting," EeDeChi remarked, glancing around. "This place really does give off a 'races living in harmony' vibe."

Vaelynn, overhearing the comment, gave EeDeChi a surprised look. Barret quickly leaned in and murmured something into Vaelynn's ear. She nodded in sudden realization, and when her gaze returned to EeDeChi, there was an unmistakable softness—pity, sympathy, perhaps even a touch of sorrow.

"Hey, what did you just tell her?" EeDeChi whispered suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing much," Barret said, feigning innocence. "I just told her that your father died young, and you had a terrible illness as a child that forced doctors to remove your vocal cords. Your mother, refusing to let you live as a mute, begged a mage to transfer her own vocal cords to you. That's why your voice has a feminine tone. Ever since then, you've been self-conscious about it, avoiding conversations and becoming reclusive…"

"You really are a clever little devil!" EeDeChi angrily pinched Barret's thigh hard, making Barret wince and jump up in pain.

As they wandered deeper into the city, the novelty of its bustling streets began to wear off, and they started noticing something… unsettling.

The most common decorations weren't fountains or gargoyles. Instead, massive portraits of Ainz Ooal Gown dominated the cityscape.

Many of these paintings were accompanied by propaganda slogans, like the one looming before them now.

In the painting, Ainz gazed into the horizon, his hand stretched forward in an imposing gesture. Behind him, beams of red and white light radiated like the rising sun. Below, bold golden letters declared:

"WINS COME ALL DAY UNDER SUPREME OVERLORD AINZ!"

And beside every portrait, without exception, stood a Death Knight, sword in hand, its hollow gaze ever-watchful.

EeDeChi and the others didn't dare linger. They stole a quick glance before averting their eyes, hastily moving on to avoid any unwanted attention.