gap between the two groups. That said, they were running over about 110 yards of grass, so the ogres with their more powerful legs were out front and the goblins followed. Each group was spread out to some extent, making it difficult to capture very many of them in an area-of-effect spell.
But that was fine. Dyne’s first job was to trap an ogre.
“Twine Plant!” When he cast the spell, the grass under one ogre’s feet began to flail like a whip and twist around them. Restrained by plants tough as chains, the ogre began to get frustrated, and its roar resounded across the plain.
Into this scene at a leisurely pace walked Ainz, followed by Narberal. No one, looking at his gait, would imagine he was headed into a fight against charging monsters. It looked more like he was taking a stroll through the meadow than navigating a combat zone.
As the nearest ogre was getting closer, Ainz crossed his hands over opposite shoulders to clutch the hilts of his swords. Narberal put her hands under his cape to pull the sheaths off. Then the blades slowly appeared in two great, huge arcs.
Every one of the Swords of Darkness gasped at the dazzling spectacle.
The nearly five-foot swords Ainz gripped were so splendid they seemed like they might have more value as works of art than as weapons. The keen blades coldly gleamed, their tips spreading into fan shapes and their grooves engraved with a pattern resembling two intertwining snakes.
They were weapons a hero would wield, and Ainz had one in each hand. Seeing him like that caused all the Swords of Darkness to gasp again. If the previous gasp had been in admiration, this time they were knocked completely speechless.
Swords get heavier the longer they are—it was only natural. No matter what kind of spell was cast to lighten the load, swinging these around would have been no easy feat. After traveling with Ainz for a short time, they understood he was exceptionally strong, but the common sense they’d amassed up till then didn’t allow for the sight of him holding a great sword in each hand so comfortably.
But…
He swung them around into a fighting stance so easily they might have been twigs. He cut quite a majestic figure.
“Momon…you’re incredible…,” Peter gasped, representative of everyone’s shock. As a warrior himself, he’d just been instantly taught what kind of strength was possible, and it dawned on him how long he would have to train to achieve it. He’d had the vague notion that he and Ainz were on different levels, but having conclusive proof before his eyes gave him shivers that started in his toes.
Even goblins, with their lesser intelligence, seemed to realize they should be afraid. Their recklessly charging feet slowed, and they changed course to take a longer way around to Peter and the others. Only the ogres continued to barrel toward Ainz, too dim-witted to second-guess their strength.
As the distance closed, they raised their weapons. No matter how long Ainz’s swords were, the ogres were still huge and had better range with their equally huge clubs. It looked like the ogres would get the first attack, but then Ainz rushed at them.
He was like a hurricane. Then, in an even faster flash of silver, the sword in his right hand flew through the air as if it were cutting space itself.
The attack was too magnificent. Regardless of the fact that they hadn’t even been cut, everyone watching felt the sudden presence of death right beside them, so much so that every hair on their bodies stood on end.
It was over in that single swing.
Ainz targeted a new ogre, leaving the one in front of him. As if waiting for him to move away, the upper body of the now stock-still first ogre slipped to the ground, leaving the lower body standing. The spray of blood, slop of innards, and diffusion of an awful stench throughout the area were the signs that this was neither a dream nor an illusion.
He’d cut the monster in two with a single diagonal
But that was fine. Dyne’s first job was to trap an ogre.
“Twine Plant!” When he cast the spell, the grass under one ogre’s feet began to flail like a whip and twist around them. Restrained by plants tough as chains, the ogre began to get frustrated, and its roar resounded across the plain.
Into this scene at a leisurely pace walked Ainz, followed by Narberal. No one, looking at his gait, would imagine he was headed into a fight against charging monsters. It looked more like he was taking a stroll through the meadow than navigating a combat zone.
As the nearest ogre was getting closer, Ainz crossed his hands over opposite shoulders to clutch the hilts of his swords. Narberal put her hands under his cape to pull the sheaths off. Then the blades slowly appeared in two great, huge arcs.
Every one of the Swords of Darkness gasped at the dazzling spectacle.
The nearly five-foot swords Ainz gripped were so splendid they seemed like they might have more value as works of art than as weapons. The keen blades coldly gleamed, their tips spreading into fan shapes and their grooves engraved with a pattern resembling two intertwining snakes.
They were weapons a hero would wield, and Ainz had one in each hand. Seeing him like that caused all the Swords of Darkness to gasp again. If the previous gasp had been in admiration, this time they were knocked completely speechless.
Swords get heavier the longer they are—it was only natural. No matter what kind of spell was cast to lighten the load, swinging these around would have been no easy feat. After traveling with Ainz for a short time, they understood he was exceptionally strong, but the common sense they’d amassed up till then didn’t allow for the sight of him holding a great sword in each hand so comfortably.
But…
He swung them around into a fighting stance so easily they might have been twigs. He cut quite a majestic figure.
“Momon…you’re incredible…,” Peter gasped, representative of everyone’s shock. As a warrior himself, he’d just been instantly taught what kind of strength was possible, and it dawned on him how long he would have to train to achieve it. He’d had the vague notion that he and Ainz were on different levels, but having conclusive proof before his eyes gave him shivers that started in his toes.
Even goblins, with their lesser intelligence, seemed to realize they should be afraid. Their recklessly charging feet slowed, and they changed course to take a longer way around to Peter and the others. Only the ogres continued to barrel toward Ainz, too dim-witted to second-guess their strength.
As the distance closed, they raised their weapons. No matter how long Ainz’s swords were, the ogres were still huge and had better range with their equally huge clubs. It looked like the ogres would get the first attack, but then Ainz rushed at them.
He was like a hurricane. Then, in an even faster flash of silver, the sword in his right hand flew through the air as if it were cutting space itself.
The attack was too magnificent. Regardless of the fact that they hadn’t even been cut, everyone watching felt the sudden presence of death right beside them, so much so that every hair on their bodies stood on end.
It was over in that single swing.
Ainz targeted a new ogre, leaving the one in front of him. As if waiting for him to move away, the upper body of the now stock-still first ogre slipped to the ground, leaving the lower body standing. The spray of blood, slop of innards, and diffusion of an awful stench throughout the area were the signs that this was neither a dream nor an illusion.
He’d cut the monster in two with a single diagonal
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