Tiamat stood in darkness.

This pitch-black place was the very same space where Tiamat had first opened his eyes upon arriving in this world.

It was the innermost of the inner sanctums of The Twelve Divines—even deeper than the chamber where he had once slept, positioned just before the Treasury of the New City (Shinshi) itself.

No one but players were permitted to enter this place.

Not even the twelve guild NPCs could step foot here.

Only the guildmasters of each division—or their highest lieutenants—had ever been granted entry.

And now, Tiamat alone remained—the last surviving player and current guildmaster.

Only one other being, the one who could be said to always be with him, was exempt from this rule...though even that one had never entered.

He looked around.

The corridor leading to the Treasury was lined entirely with shelves—walls of books, paintings, sculptures, and items.

Each shelf belonged to a single individual, engraved with their name, race, affiliation, level, and record date.

But these weren't ordinary records.

They were deeply personal, private archives—the final, intimate histories of the guild members of The Twelve Divines.

Opening one at random, a typical entry read:

Name: Eriko

Race: Rabbit Beastman

Affiliation: Tamun

Level: 100

Date of Record: Continental Era XXXX

Beneath it lay a handwritten journal—personal notes written using YGGDRASIL's record system.

Players could write their own histories into the game—some even used it to publish novels or adventure logs.

Here, however, these journals were diaries of remembrance—personal chronicles left behind by each guild member.

Tens, even hundreds of these volumes filled the hall, every one belonging to someone who had long since departed.

Once, this place had been a record archive for the guild.

Now… it had become something else.

A mausoleum.

Tiamat's gaze settled on twelve special shelves—those belonging to the original founding guildmasters of The Twelve Divines.

Each one was decorated with portraits, relics, personal notes, and keepsakes— memorials of those who had once led their respective divisions.

It was like a row of tombstones.

Each had left behind a final testament before logging out forever.

Some hadn't, so Tiamat—or another remaining member—had written one in their place.

Though the guild was now embroiled in crisis—and though Tiamat himself had just slain an enemy guild's NPC and sealed their resurrection with The Soul-Eating Serpent—he still had a brief moment before the upcoming meeting.

And so, he used it to revisit old memories.

Before him were twelve portraits—the faces of the previous generation, the first Twelve Divines〉who had built the guild from nothing.

Among them, there was one that Tiamat could never forget.

"King Simba…"

The master of the Lion King guild, known as the Ho-King, King Simba, had been the one who personally invited Tiamat into The Twelve Divines.

He was both friend and mentor.

Tiamat's teacher.

Looking up, Tiamat saw the smiling face of a beastman with the head of a tiger, wearing a tiger mask on top of his striped muzzle—a ridiculous yet endearing sight.

That was King Simba.

The man who had brought Tiamat into the guild…his comrade, his friend, his master.

"Those were… good times."

Back then, Tiamat had begun as a dragon race player.

His enormous body and its unwieldiness made playing difficult, until he obtained the world item Tarnhelm, which allowed him to change his race at will without losing his original stats.

Though he lost access to some dragon-exclusive skills and passives, his raw stats were still monstrous—far beyond those of ordinary players.

Combining three job classes into a hidden hybrid class, Tiamat's total parameters exceeded even three times that of a standard max-level player.

With Tarnhelm, he could wear humanoid equipment despite his draconic origins—making his base power unrivaled.

But he had one flaw: his PvP skills were poor.

When facing top-tier duelists—those who excelled in pure player skill—his overwhelming stats alone weren't enough.

PvP required quick reflexes, spacing, and rhythm…

and Tiamat's close-combat control was atrocious.

"Well… I couldn't help it," he murmured.

"In real life, my body didn't move well. Even in virtual space, there was… always that gap."

No matter how immersive the virtual world was, his real body had been disabled.

That subtle disconnect between mind and movement was something he could never fully overcome.

And then there was that day.

"You've got no talent for this, kid!"

King Simba had dropped by to coach him once—after just a single day of training, he left laughing, leaving those words behind.

It was decisive.

Tiamat realized he didn't just lack talent for PvP—

he lacked talent for fighting itself.

After that, he abandoned melee combat completely.

He rebuilt his entire skill tree and equipment setup,

focusing exclusively on magic warfare—area control, suppression, and devastating bombardment fueled by his absurd stats.

That became Tiamat's style—the Dragon Magus who blanketed battlefields in magical carpet bombings.

Even though his attacks were all magical bombardment, Tiamat's base stats were so overwhelmingly strong that a single proper strike often meant winning half the battle outright. After that he'd follow up with wide-area mana barrages—what people called his "scorched-earth tactics"—and finish the job. If that didn't work? He simply lost.

In fact, he'd been beaten badly several times when opponents countered that tactic: King Simba, and others famous in the guild for their PvP, had shown him how fragile his approach could be.

(When I looked him up, he was a pure human…) King Simba had been the undisputed number-one close-combat ranker in Yggdrasil, the World Champion of melee. More than that, in real life he was a championship fighter too.

Given that the world of combat sports is full of genetically enhanced fighters and those with augmentation procedures, the fact that a normal human took the title against such opponents was astonishing. Watching the footage, Tiamat had asked himself if that could really be a mere human's movement.

So he gave up. His body wouldn't move properly, and his talent was below third-rate. As a warrior, it was enough to land a single crushing blow; that sufficed. For PvE it was shockingly strong, and in guild warfare there was no need to duel up close. Still… until the server shut down, he never became adept at close combat.

Of course, now all of that is just memory.

While he slept… only weeks had passed in Tiamat's perception, but an incredibly long time had actually gone by while he'd dozed.

"Two hundred years…an incredible span of time."

Two centuries. It was absurd. Even looking outside at the Twelve guild city—now renamed Shinshi—made the passage of time obvious. But this place felt untouched by the years.

Not a speck of dust anywhere in the record repository. Thanks to preservation magic, it didn't feel like two hundred years had passed; everything remained as it had been.

As long as the Twelve—or rather Shinshi—remained intact, this place would be preserved forever. If Tiamat, the sole ruler and newfound god of this city, decreed it, no one would dare object.

"Sigh…"

Looking at all of it, he could only sigh.

He wasn't displeased to have fallen into this world. He now had a true body—not a virtual shell but an actual body. Even if it was originally a game character and not even human, being able to walk the world with his own legs was a tremendous blessing.

And this world still had pristine nature. Compared to the awful cities of his original life—acid rain, heavy metals, smog so bad you had to wear gas masks, a life predetermined from birth—this world was paradise.

He'd also brought back great power, and a powerful faction to boot. What reason did he have to complain? Still, a lingering regret remained.

"I wish others had come with me…"

As guildmaster and as one of the old leadership, he missed King Simba, Baran, Kakarot, and the other guildmates they used to roam with—Kaelin, Hershion, Maellan, Inkrain, and many other fine friends in the Twelve. How wonderful it would have been to enjoy this world together—recklessly and carefree.

But now only Tiamat remained here.

There were NPCs, and there was Ea—an NPC who behaved so much like a player—but there were no true fellow players, no real "kindred." Not a single one.

…Well, that wasn't entirely true.

"'Ainz Ooal Gown'…"

There was an enemy in this world. Not just a local power, but an enemy from Yggdrasil itself—a powerful, terrifying opponent.

Ainz Ooal Gown—the most notorious DQN guild of Yggdrasil, a guild for heteromorphic species by heteromorphs, only heteromorphs.

They were dangerous.

Even their concept made them hostile: an evil-aligned guild that would not hesitate to do filthy things.

Perhaps they might have reformed upon arriving in this world—but if they truly appreciated this place's beauty, if they wanted to cherish and preserve it, they wouldn't have launched a preemptive attack.

Because of that, Monkyspanner was ambushed and killed, and Dragon's Dream—the foothold and bait they'd left in this world—suffered a crippling loss.

This cannot be overlooked. A 100-level NPC died and its equipment was looted. And Monkyspanner's gear was the legacy left behind by one of the guild leaders, Kakarot. The moment that was pillaged, any hope of a peaceful relationship was gone.

So Tiamat himself stepped in. He didn't yet know the enemy was Ainz Ooal Gown, but operating on the premise that the foe might possess a World Item, and knowing that only he—the strongest entity left among the Twelve—could realistically uncover the enemy's true identity, he took direct action.

The plan succeeded: he discovered the opponent. It was Ainz Ooal Gown. In the process Tiamat slew the enemy guild NPC Demiurgos, used the "Soul-Eating Serpent" to seal its resurrection, and seized its items. As a bonus, he acquired the World Item "Cup of Hygieia."

Not a bad haul. But with that… Ainz Ooal Gown would surely have noticed them.

"They must have realized we're the Twelve."

Among the items taken from Monkyspanner was the "Twelve-Zodiac Ring," a guild item that allows teleportation into the guild. Of course Tiamat had the ring purged from the master source; even if they still held the ring now, it could no longer teleport anyone into the guild.

Still, the mere existence of that ring would alert Ainz Ooal Gown to the presence of the Twelve. The Twelve was a mega-guild even more famous than Ainz Ooal Gown. But Ainz Ooal Gown probably hasn't yet realized the true extent of the Twelve's force.

There is only one player in the Twelve now—the guildmaster Tiamat, the sole surviving player.

"That fact must never be revealed."

They must not let the enemy know there is only a single player on their side. There was a time when Momonga—well, Momonga used to talk with players who remained on the server—but now that Ainz is an enemy, they absolutely must not exchange more information.

They don't know how many players Ainz still has. Momonga said some members hadn't returned for months, but who's to say a few didn't come back at the server's end? If, among them, there's the World Champion who once fought King Simba tooth and nail, or someone like Urbert the magic-caster of World Disaster fame… it would be dangerous. If there are multiple players on the Ainz side while the Twelve has only one, no matter how solid the Twelve's NPC forces are, it could be impossible to withstand them.

Therefore—before the enemy can gauge their strength… they must crush them first.

"War isn't what we want either… but there's no other choice now, Momonga."

Now that they are enemies, Tiamat intends to smash them thoroughly. Before Ainz Ooal Gown can learn the Twelve's true power, he plans to deliver the maximum possible blow and force them to the negotiating table. If they hole up in Ainz's fortress—the impregnable Nazarick Great Underground Tomb—there will be nothing more they can do.

Tiamat clenched the "Cup of Hygieia," the item wrested from Demiurge, in his hand and ground his teeth.

Thus, between the two powers who have now become aware of each other, war clouds finally began to gather.

The lord of the death-commanding legions in the guise of a skeleton (the Overlord).

The lord of dragons, a colossal dark dragon who rules all Ainz.

A clash of forces capable of shaking the world itself, even destroying it.

Which way this struggle will go—no one in this other world could yet predict.

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