Tonight, Alice joins the hunt.

On a material level, the control system used to maintain the hive and ensure the proper functioning of its transportation and supply networks is based on Alice's puppetry. The floating cubes and the network of elevators are convenient technologies created under Alice's influence. In the upper echelons of this world, the rulers call this system the 'Puppetry Project.' This project, from its inception, will remain with this corrupt civilization until its final day, a million years from now.

On a spiritual level, the original virtual reality technology in this universe has been replaced by the improved memory world provided by Patchouli. The high degree of realism, the augmented reality, and even the creation of the isolation suits that cleaved all lower-class residents into isolated individuals, were all born from her will. Moreover, nearly half of the major companies on this planet have, under her subtle influence, added the prefix 'Chiki' to their names and followed her philosophies in their lives.

Alice's philosophy is about the change and development of things—thus, the most dynamic element in this corrupt civilization, the ever-functioning management system, was born. Even if the civilization stagnates, it remains a functioning, vibrant, and perpetually vibrant system. Moreover, the rebellions that appear and fail time and again actually represent her will, because it is change, because it aligns with the humanitarian ideal of not being subservient to others.

Patchouli's philosophy is the collection and preservation of knowledge—and for this decadent civilization, keeping knowledge firmly in the hands of the upper class is undoubtedly the most suitable operating model. The law that employees have their memories erased after work is her will, and when knowledge is completely monopolized, making the entire civilization the guardians of secrets clearly fits the needs of the script's meme.

Their influence permeates every aspect of this material universe, and their powerful interference allows them to manifest near-supernatural avatars within it without their physical presence. In fact, the leaders of the two largest factions within the Twin Consortium—the world's largest rulers—are agents created by these two individuals on this vast land, and if they so desire, they can turn this planet into a dead star at any time!

They chose the material universe, and they made so many preparations. They knew perfectly well that when their will touched and altered the spiritual universe, Luo Ye would act as the judge, using her single pawn to determine the success or failure of Alice and the other two!

So...shall we fight?

“I’ve roughly figured out how to win.” Outside the universe, on the inner side of the Abyss of Death, Alice whispered, “When we make our move, Luo Ye will place her pieces. She will attack the timeline we’ve created in this universe, erase the traces we’ve left here that span the end of an era, and even prevent us from interfering again. What we have to do is prevent such a future from coming, or at least maintain the status quo of the material universe.”

"Or perhaps we can do more, like occupying her mental universe and depriving her of the space to exert interference?" Patchouli, who had spent fifty million years with Alice in this abyss of death, replied. "Perhaps that would earn us a higher evaluation?"

“It’s the difference between 80 and 100.” Alice nodded, restarting the clock. “The grid lines are meant to retain some influence, preventing complete expulsion from this universe. But if they actually give this kind of answer, it would be rather embarrassing.”

They watched as Suzuki Satoru of the Thirteenth Era boarded his private stealth pod, and as this mortal met with and bid farewell to his few remaining online friends in the soon-to-be-defunct world of Yggdrasil. As the clock struck the final hour before shutdown, and the real-world clock pointed to the number eleven, they saw Suzuki Satoru leave the guild hall, pick up the token symbolizing the guild itself, and then patrol the massive stronghold known as the Great Tomb of Nazarick.

His action would transport the entire Great Tomb and its NPCs with him. This is because when he is on the throne, the guild token in his hand represents the guild itself—in a previous era, Alice interfered with his actions, causing him to leave with the token at the last moment before the journey and be transferred to the outside of the guild. As a result, Suzuki Satoru arrived in the other world as a separate individual.

It was a pretty good timeline. The solitary Suzuki Satoru… or rather, the great mage of the dead, Ainz Ooal Gown, encountered a lonely, undead girl during his solitary journey through another world. His heart, long since withered in the corrupt civilization, gradually revived during their long time together—though he remained undead, he regained his kindness and reason. Even centuries later, when another player logged in just seconds before Yggdrasil shut down, bringing the Great Tomb of Nazarick, his heart remained unchanged.

However, the goddesses did not intend to repeat the same scenario this time, so when Suzuki Satoru sat on the throne with the guild token in his hand, his heart was not disturbed in the slightest by external interference.

He sat quietly on the throne, reminiscing about the pleasant days he had enjoyed as a guild member. As he did so, the will of the two goddesses watched his every move from behind. And as he examined the forty-one banners representing each guild member, and summoned the guild's NPCs to the throne to inspect them as if reviewing a military parade, his gaze followed that of the goddesses.

Alice had once considered increasing the number of members of the Great Tomb of Nazarick from forty-one to forty-two or forty-three. She envisioned herself, or an avatar of herself and Patchouli, embarking on an otherworldly journey with the protagonist, hoping to use the protagonist's influence to suppress Loye's plans. However, when the worldline that Suzuki Satoru had traveled through alone appeared before her, she abandoned this idea.

—Because the script meme doesn't stipulate that Suzuki Satoru, or [Momonga], must be invincible in the other world. He can become a ruler, or he can become a hermit. This leads to too much instability for those on the same side as him, and such a flaw is practically a handy handle for Luo Ye, who absolutely knows all the secrets of this twin universe and how the script meme works.

Alice didn't believe she could defeat Luo Ye through scheming, because this was a battle of wits, which meant Luo Ye might not hold back at all in their first fight against her. In this situation, Alice wasn't even sure if she had already been defeated before the battle even began—like putting a plastic business card in your pocket as your exam admission ticket and rushing into the exam hall on the last minute.

She couldn't help but sigh softly.

In a few minutes, Yggdrasil will cease operations and the servers will be shut down. As a result, Suzuki Satoru, a mortal, will die suddenly in the stealth pod, while Ainz Ooal Gown, the Great Magician of the Dead, will take the Great Tomb to the other world.

He couldn't control his subordinates, so he was led by the nose by them—even though his subordinates were always extremely loyal to him, when acting as a whole, those mutated NPCs belonging to the extremely evil faction would carry out every order given by the flying squirrel according to their own understanding. Over time, this now ordinary wage earner, the future Grand Mage of the Dead, would completely become one of them, becoming a powerful and evil Lord of the Dead.

The tide of death will sweep across the entire other world until the next powerful enough traveler arrives with another ideology—and a new era will replace this old fate.

Just a few minutes left.

Meanwhile, as Suzuki Satoru, still playing as [Momonga], used guild privileges for fun to modify the NPC settings designed by his companions, turning them into a ticking time bomb, Alice suddenly whispered a question to the person beside her.

"Patch, do you think this exam paper... the total score might be more than one hundred?" — If the total score is more than one hundred, it means there are hidden bonus questions... or the goddesses still haven't figured out the whole exam paper. Either way, it's not a good thing.

She soon heard Patchouli's reply.

“I don’t know,” Patchouli whispered beside her. “But whatever challenges we face next, we will face them together.”

Alice nodded.

The next moment, as Yggdrasil was about to cease operations, the same instant that ordinary salaryman Suzuki Satoru was about to become the game character, the Great Mage of the Dead, [Momonga].

At the Earth's South and North Poles, two colossal nests, which together occupy nearly half of the Earth's population and resources, began operating at full power for the first time since they were built!

Armies assembled, factories roared and exploded. Those long-dormant weapons of nature, meant to be shelved with the end of the Last World War, were reactivated. The instant the hive transformed into a city of molten iron, those towering war machines, resembling mythical Titans, spewed forth the breath of iron accumulated over decades!

Pieces of starlight lit up the dark surface of the Earth, and from the poles, fiery, iron-like lines of light connected and illuminated every sleeping nest city!

And a synthesized female voice, blending two distinct vocal styles, echoed continuously throughout the many nest cities!

— "Coordinates have been determined, and the channel path has been detected."

—"System online. First interdimensional exploration mission begins... Connection successfully established. Opening the gate between the two worlds..."

"It is time to wake up from your dreams, mortals. The stars are not the only place you can reach."

Chapter Twelve: Hell and the Little Demons

The universe, the idealistic universe.

In this idealistic universe, the form of existence of life depends on the strength of their own minds.

The content of the 'mind' determines the outward appearance of the 'body'. And the size of the 'body' can also reflect the inner filling of the 'mind'.

In this universe, the saying "appearance reflects the heart" is not just empty talk. This is because the interaction between body and mind is immense. A person with a sunny and cheerful appearance inevitably possesses a broad mind. With very few rare exceptions, a person's appearance often represents their allegiance and strength.

The good ascend to heaven, the wicked descend to hell—this rule is not merely a saying in this idealistic universe. And since heaven and hell truly exist, it means that this universe contains multiple independent spaces—or rather, worlds.

Ah, yes, that's right—because the idealistic universe and the materialistic universe are of equal size. In other words, since the materialistic side has a universe spanning tens of light-years and nearly a hundred stars, then it's only natural that a similar number of independent worlds exist on the idealistic side as well.

The world that this destined transmigrator, formerly known as Suzuki Satoru, now known as Ainz Ooal Gown, and destined to be renamed Ainz Ooal Gown, has arrived in is one of the many worlds in this idealistic universe. And for the inhabitants of that world, other worlds are as distant as stars in their perception—

—Although it is unknown how they came to have the concept of 'stars', when the inhabitants of these many worlds all think this way, in the eyes of these natives and the occasional transmigrators, the other worlds are the vast stars that twinkle in the night sky.

The war began at the very bottom of this starry sky.

....................................

Fallen Heaven - World of Sin

"Gwwwwwu! Gwwwwu!"—The lowly demon with red skin resembled a crimson lizard magnified two hundred times. Its skin was fragmented, and five deformed arms grew from its waist and neck, some with seven fingers, others with three claws. Biologically, it was difficult to understand how much suffering this mutated life form had endured to grow to such a size. But the owner of this body clearly held a different view from the scholars of the material world.

It glided nimbly down the black stone mountain, its powerful claws whistling as they scraped against the cracks in the stone. It was a sound coming from within the stone, like a dying prisoner with tenacious will to live, dragging half its body in its final struggle on the execution ground.

It is said that evil people go to hell after death, and thus hell became a reality. And the moment hell became a reality, the fiery hell, the River Styx, the mountains of knives, the sea of ​​blood—the hatred from different societies and cultures—manifested in physical form at the lowest level of this universe. They transformed into endless, sharp, black stone mountains, and within each rock on these mountains lay the remnants of souls.

Some are big, some are small, some are worthless, some... are still usable.

A small, fine stone appeared before the demon. It reached out and grabbed it, its diamond-shaped eyes clearly seeing a distorted, floating face of a man on the neatly broken surface of the stone—the man screamed upon seeing it. A terrified howl emanated from that distorted face.

—No! Don't eat me!

The man's soul made a wrong choice. Because this place is hell, and he encountered the lowest of the low, a lesser demon.

Even the lowest of the lesser demons is still a devil.

Then, with a crisp cracking sound and a flurry of stone chips, the wailing sounds went from orderly to chaotic. Then the volume increased exponentially.

Ah, he didn't die—how could someone who has already died once die a second time so easily? If death could be embraced so easily, wouldn't this land be a misnomer?

after all--

This is hell, a place where hatred and despair converge.

Every minute, every second, fallen souls from other worlds and stars scream as they crash into the dark, sharp rocky mountains, laden with the black, murky smoke of sin. Of these, the luckiest few are instantly shattered into fragments, their consciousness extinguished, thus achieving eternal liberation. The unluckiest few, however, retain a self even after being shattered, and are then, over the long years that follow, are slowly ground into fine dust by the icy winds that wind through the mountains.

That was a long process, a very long one.

Aside from those who went to extremes, the vast majority of unfortunate, yet not unfortunate enough, poor souls will turn to stone after falling. Then, they will face their final fate.

Then the imp let out a screech, joyful laugh, and a man's face, identical to the one on the stone, grew from its belly. That face continued to wail and weep, as if suffering some terrible torment. And as the face gradually became clearer, the imp's form visibly grew stronger.

It happily rolled around in the mountain river and then continued downstream.

The rivers of hell are unlike any other.

These streams, primarily composed of a mixture of blood and lava, originate deep within the rocky mountains, flowing through their crevices. They converge into cohesive streams, which then transform into a raging torrent. As these rivers, accompanied by the low, mournful murmurs of blood and lava, gather in the lowlands, the gathering place of the suffering, the iron fortress that decides the fate of millions of sinners and villains, takes shape on the shores of this crimson lake.

The lesser demons go there, and any lesser demon that has successfully fed should go there. And in Hell, distance is never a problem for beings with a clear goal.

It quickly descended from the mountainside to the foot of the mountain, rising from a high point to a lower one. After passing the monotonous black rocks, the ground gradually leveled out, and sparsely sprouted clusters of flowers formed from bones. These were works of hellish art pieced together from hollow knuckles. It is said that only sinners stained with the blood of multiple relatives who fall to the soil of hell have a very small chance of growing such an exquisite bone flower.

The demon saw six such bone flowers on the road, but five of them were trampled and picked. Only the last bone flower had a fist-sized skull fruit at its top. It looked ripe, because when the demon picked it, two lines of blood tears, seemingly tears of repentance, flowed from the skull's eye sockets.

Fortunately, all the fruits are normally guarded by patrolling demons. These abandoned ripe fruits are usually offered as tribute to the highest-ranking beings. Lower-ranking demons who dare to touch them are severely punished.

The lesser demon didn't care about the severe punishment it might face, because it intended to offer the fruit to the Demon King. Deep within its flesh and blood, it vaguely knew that the Demon King possessed immense authority and power.

It is said that the King can shake the earth and tear the sky apart, and even the gods and ancient angels who sometimes descend from the highest heavens to steal certain souls must retreat when they see him. The King will mercilessly strike them down, and in each battle, he will leave some of those winged creatures behind forever.

The lesser demon knew nothing of gods or ancient angels. It only possessed the corresponding terms flowing in its blood, and knew that the arrival of those things would be accompanied by intense loathing and its own death—but that didn't matter. It wanted to see the king, not those strange, repulsive creatures. And it knew that the king's noble head had eight great horns.

Moreover, under the king's rule, there was also the largest and most evil fortress in Hell as its place of residence.

It is said that no words can describe even a fraction of the horror of that fortress, for its very existence is the embodiment of terror. Many demons want to know what happens to the fallen souls cast into the dark crypts beneath the fortress, but few are worthy to know. The agonizing groans crawling out of the crypts and the blood gushing from the fortress's drains are enough to satisfy them, allowing them to turn their gaze elsewhere.

Even the lesser demon didn't know, but it did know that this was hell.

This is hell, and that is the nest of sin and suffering.

So it carried the still-weeping fruit forward, continuing its journey to the demon's fortress.

It knew it would arrive soon, though it was strange that it hadn't encountered a single one of its kind along the way, despite the vastness of the land. But it knew it would arrive soon.

After all, it is a demon, and in hell, as long as the goal is clear, even if you have no idea how to get there and it is thousands of miles away, as long as you want to get there, you will definitely be able to get there.

The blood-red river gradually widened, and its color slowly changed from a bright, fiery red to a murky hue. It seemed that many things had sunk to the bottom of the river, and one could vaguely see jagged, sharp corners protruding from the surface.

—What is that?

The demon seemed to want to stop, but ultimately it didn't. It smelled a strange odor tinged with the sulfurous scent in the air—it smelled like some kind of burning black oil, or like the burnt residue from lightning striking the air—it didn't know what it was, but it smelled quite nice.

The road ahead became increasingly difficult. Sometimes, enormous chasms would appear in the ground, and sometimes towering mountains would be sculpted into strange shapes. Sometimes what appeared to be a plain would turn into a scorching basin upon approaching. An unsettling, invisible light swirled in the center of the basin, forcing it to take detours and thus wasting even more time.

It still hadn't encountered any of its kind on the road; not only that, it hadn't even seen any ordinary hellish creatures. Neither sulfur-spitting demonic hounds nor shadowy ghosts appeared. And yet, this didn't slow its pace.

After all, it is a demon, even if it is the lowest of the demons, it is still a demon.

But demons feel no fear, nor do they back down.

It just felt a little strange, but it quickly dismissed that feeling.

Because it feels it's getting closer and closer to the finish line; it's still a little short, but it should be very close already.

Then, it saw the fortress etched deep in its bloodline.

It was a bit strange; the fortress wasn't quite what it had imagined. It wasn't as majestic, imposing, terrifying, or evil as the lesser demon had envisioned; instead, it looked—somewhat dilapidated?

“Gwwwwwu——Gwwwwu——” The lesser demon roared softly twice, holding up the skull fruit in its hands.

Several beams of red light shone from afar—light invisible to mortals, but visible to the demon's eyes. The instant those beams swept over it, a sudden surge of alarm caused several of its knees to buckle and slam to the ground.

It felt it was going to die, even though this was hell, and even though it didn't know why, it still felt it was going to die. It felt a pang of regret, regret that it hadn't been able to offer the fruit to the Demon King. And then…

...it did not live to see the death it had anticipated.

It slowly got up from the ground, only to find that the invisible red lights that had been cast from afar had disappeared from its body. And what had disappeared was not only the light, but also many things that it did not know or see.

It seemed that something unseen and intangible had been following it since it set out. Only now, as it departed, did it perceive the traces it had left behind. And even now, it could not fully comprehend or discern the true nature of those traces.

Never mind, it's irrelevant.

It intends to offer this fruit to its king.