{A/N: Extra long chapter. Tell me how this chapter was. Was it good? Remember, tell me when I'm going too far. I found myself enjoying writing this chapter a bit too much, so tell me how you're feeling. Because your thoughts are everything to me. When I read your comment, nothing else matters. Your thoughts mean that much to me, so don't hide them from me.}
'Such power…' Momon—no, Ainz—thought with narrowed eyes. Antilene's strength was far too high to be overlooked. Truthfully, if it were possible, Ainz would have gladly welcomed her into the guild. If her talent could copy Rex's abilities, then there was potentially no ceiling to what she might achieve. She was a resource too valuable to leave unchecked.
The Elder Coffin Dragon Lord's gaze locked onto Antilene. She was one of its designated targets—one it was determined to eliminate. It dove toward her like a falling star, power radiating from its massive form.
Antilene acted quickly. She activated Blue, not to strike the enemy, but to affect herself. Space warped around her body, and the spell pulled her inward, compressing distance until it looked as if she had simply teleported away, vanishing just before the dragon's breath attack landed.
'She is fast.' The Elder Coffin Dragon Lord narrowed its eyes, flapping hard to the side just in time to dodge a crimson orb that tore through the air toward it.
The orb—Red—unleashed a violent force, repelling everything around it. Unlike Blue, which pulled space and matter inward like a black hole, Red had the opposite effect. It was as if the weight of infinity itself was erupting outward, distorting the air and cracking space along its path. Anything caught in its range would be annihilated without question.
'That orb is pushing even space away!' the Dragon Lord realized, genuinely alarmed.
Wasting no time, it launched itself toward Antilene, intending to close the distance before she could fire again. But she was already one step ahead.
Antilene raised her arm, firing a second Red—larger, more violent. The Dragon Lord twisted midair and rolled aside, narrowly avoiding the sphere once more.
But then, in a flash of warped space, she activated Blue. It pulled her forward, launching her in front of Red.
The Dragon Lord's eyes widened as he watched Antilene manipulate the Red orb flying ahead of her, guiding it into the swirling pull of Blue. In an instant, the two forces began to merge, compressing violently into a single unstable sphere.
[Purple.]
Antilene's face twisted with effort as she fought to maintain control of the fusion. Her mana surged, skin shimmering with strain. She didn't hesitate. With a flick of her arm and a scream of willpower, she hurled Purple directly at the Dragon Lord.
He flinched and darted aside—but it was pointless. The unstable nature of Purple, the fusion of attraction and repulsion, meant it didn't need to land directly… It was a bomb.
Boom.
The sky split apart with a thunderous explosion that shook the heavens. Waves of purple light shattered across the battlefield, and even Ainz, watching from a distance, narrowed his eyes in awe.
'Impressive,' he thought.
Antilene's attack rivaled the force of a super-tier spell cast by a level 100 player. And she had achieved that while being equal to only a level 88. It was a testament not just to her mastery but to how absurdly overpowered Rex's job classes truly were.
"Well… this can't be," Antilene breathed heavily as she landed on the scorched ground. Her knees buckled slightly from the strain, but her instincts snapped her upright when she heard a calm, unfamiliar voice echo from above.
She looked up and froze.
A masked man floated in the air, hovering effortlessly. He wore a dark, tailored suit that contrasted sharply with the bat-like wings extending from his back. His tail swayed behind him, long and whip-like, and sharp, pointed ears poked through his black hair. He stood in front of the wounded Dragon Lord, shielding it like a guardian.
"Mommy, that's the man working with Father's guild!" Michael's voice cut in as he rushed to her side, eyes locked on the floating figure.
Hearing that, Antilene's gaze darkened. Her breath slowed, and her eyes grew cold—deathly cold—as she stared up at the intruder.
"Child of the Supreme Ones, I thank you for leading us back to the world item the Slane Theocracy held," Demiurge said with a calm, respectful tone. "You've granted us a fighting chance. Your actions have truly pleased the Supreme Ones."
With that, Demiurge bowed deeply to Michael, showing sincere reverence to the one who carried the blood of the gods he served.
Antilene wasted no time. She swiftly pulled Michael behind her, her arm shielding him as she glared at Demiurge with narrowed eyes.
She wasn't surprised that Demiurge had emerged unscathed from the earlier explosion. After all, the blast had only wiped away Purple's true ability—its erasure down to the atomic level. What remained was just an overwhelming detonation. Demiurge had no need to worry about the residual force; her stats, no matter how refined, didn't come close to matching his. Adding the gear and skills… well, it was clear to see why Demiurge wasn't bothered much by her attack.
Her plan had been simple—catch the Dragon Lord off guard and kill it, or at the very least, leave it on the brink of death. And by all accounts, it should've worked. The Dragon Lord had been vulnerable, wide open from the surprise attack.
What she didn't expect was Demiurge's sudden appearance, shielding the beast in the final moments. Without his interference, the Dragon Lord would've been crippled… if not outright dead.
Antilene's eyes blazed with fury as she locked her gaze on the demon. "What do you want?" she asked coldly, every word dripping with venom and restrained rage.
"Simple," Demiurge said with a wicked grin. "The Supreme Ones wish to rule this world, and I've chosen the Slane Theocracy as the first to fall. But since I've been granted the freedom to act as I please, I've decided to take my time… and savor the slow, agonizing descent of your people."
His voice was calm, yet each word landed like a dagger. Michael's expression darkened, and the others around him stiffened, their hearts sinking with dread.
As if to hammer in the hopelessness, shadows filled the sky, joining the circling dragons were now hordes of demons, appearing like a dark tide ready to drown them all.
"Michael!" Antilene shouted urgently, her voice sharp with unease.
Without hesitation, Michael reacted. In a flash, he created countless clones of himself. Each one shot into the sky like a missile, ready to meet the threat head-on.
"But we've only just met," Demiurge said with a devilish smile, his voice calm and mocking. "It would be such a shame to end things here."
With a flick of his hand, he cast the spell [Hellfire Wall]. A massive barrier of writhing flame erupted across the sky, burning with infernal power. The moment one of Michael's clones made contact, a blood-curdling scream tore from its throat.
Each clone followed, vanishing in agony as the wall scorched not just their bodies, but their very souls.
On the ground, the real Michael staggered back, clutching his head as the shared pain wracked his mind.
"It seems your clones aren't quite as capable as you," Demiurge said slightly, watching them disappear one after another. "A fatal flaw… sharing the same mind as them."
"Dem—! I mean, you demon!" Momon roared, shooting through the air like a missile. He swung his massive sword at Demiurge, who blocked the blow just in time, only to be hurled backward by the sheer force of the strike.
"Nabe! Help Antilene and the others!" Momon shouted without looking back, his voice echoing across the battlefield. "I'll hold back this demon and the Dragon Lord!"
Without missing a beat, he ripped his greatsword free and hurled it like a spear. The weapon spun with terrifying speed, forcing the Dragon Lord to twist away and retreat mid-flight before it could act.
At this moment, Ainz didn't possess the stats of a magic caster, but rather those of a full-fledged warrior. To some, that might seem impossible, but the reason was simple. He was currently using the spell [Perfect Warrior].
The spell allows Ainz to convert his magic caster levels into an equivalent number of warrior levels. By using that spell, he can temporarily become a half-baked level 100 warrior. It also carries the benefit of being able to use certain pieces of arms and armor that will normally require specific job classes to access without penalty. This includes freely utilizing any weapons and their abilities,
However, there are many drawbacks to that spell. The first weakness is that he cannot cast other spells while the magic is in effect. In addition, he will not gain any special warrior skills from the spell, and his recalculated ability scores will be lower than an actual warrior.
Secondly, sustaining the transformation spell and other magic will both lower his mana and mana recovery rates to zero. This form is enough when matching blades with second-rate combatants like priests and the like, but he will stand no chance of winning against an opponent who is a dedicated warrior.
But it was enough—enough for Ainz to put on a dazzling display, clashing with both the Dragon Lord and Demiurge at once. Michael and Antilene stood frozen, watching in awe as Momon fought a losing battle… all for their sake.
To them, Momon was the talentless, ungifted son of Rex. Yet here he was, standing tall and unyielding, willingly placing his life on the line to protect this world and secure a brighter future. The sight moved them deeply, bringing tears to their eyes.
How could someone like Rex—so cruel, so heartless—have a son with such a noble spirit?
Antilene couldn't remain still. Her body screamed in protest, still aching under the crushing burden of having used Purple, but she pushed through it. Pain meant nothing when weighed against a mother's love. As long as her baby boy could live… what more could she possibly ask for?
"Mommy?" Michael called out, his voice filled with worry as he watched her stand despite the strain weighing on her body.
"No matter what happens," Antilene said softly, turning to him with a tender smile, "just know that I will always be with you, alright?"
Her words struck something deep in Michael. A sudden unease crept into his chest, his instincts warning him that something was wrong. But before he could speak again, Antilene gently cast a spell, and his body went limp as sleep overtook him.
She caught him in her arms, cradling him close. A faint kiss touched his forehead, and though her expression remained gentle, her eyes shimmered with the beginnings of tears. She held him just a moment longer before laying him down, whispering a silent promise to the child who meant more to her than life itself.
"You were the best thing to ever come into my life. I will always love you," Antilene whispered, gently running her fingers through Michael's hair as he slept peacefully. Her voice trembled, but her touch remained steady, as if savoring the final moment she could be close to him.
Lifting her eyes, she looked toward Nabe, who hovered above them, casting spells with unwavering precision. Demons fell from the sky in clusters, torn apart by her magic. The dragons, sensing her strength, remained at a distance, for now, waiting for the right moment to strike once she was worn down.
"Please… protect him," Antilene said softly, her voice carrying a weight Nabe couldn't quite understand. But despite the confusion in her eyes, Nabe gave a firm nod. She could see it in Antilene's gaze… this was goodbye.
Without another word, Antilene turned and began walking forward, her steps growing heavier with each stride as she moved toward the battlefield where Momon stood locked in a brutal clash against two overwhelming foes.
"Rex…
If fate were kind, I'd see your eyes one final time—not for closure, but to witness whether sorrow ever learned to live behind them. Maybe there was never a man to mourn… only a shadow that learned to smile.
You were never cruel with sword or flame. No… your cruelty was silence. Your weapon was absence. And the hollow weight you left in a child's arms? That was the wound that never closed.
Michael… Momon… the sons you discarded—they'll find each other in the wreckage you left behind. Not as your legacy. Not as your heirs. But as a fire born of abandonment, one bright enough to burn through the rot of your name.
When your throne crumbles to ash, when the last whisper of your name is scattered to dust, remember me. Not as the woman who once loved you… But as the echo of everything your heart never dared to hold.
In death, when all lies are stripped bare and the veil lifts, I won't welcome you. I won't forgive you.
In the afterlife, Rex…
I will become your hell."
Her voice broke as she slowly reached for the strands of white hair wrapped gently around her neck. Delicate, yet unyielding—Rex's hair. Hair she had pulled from him in the haze of that night. A night where the pleasure had been so overwhelming that her body moved on its own, her hands desperate for something to anchor her. She hadn't even realized what she was doing—just that she had clutched him so tightly, grasping whatever she could.
These were the strands that came loose—faint, fragile-seeming wisps of hair… yet still powerful. Even his hair resisted magic. It turned away spells that weren't cast at the highest level. Just like the man himself—untouchable, unreachable, unforgivable.
She held the strands tightly against her neck, clutching them as if she were holding him, Rex. Even now, even at the end, her thoughts clung to him. How cruel he was… that even in her final moments, it was him her heart whispered for.
A soft breath left her lips, almost like a sigh of surrender. Then, slowly, she raised her arm and pointed it toward Demiurge and the Dragon Lord.
The air shifted. Momon, locked in brutal combat with the two, felt it first—a suffocating pressure, like a god's breath pressing down on the battlefield.
Both Demiurge and the Dragon Lord froze, their bodies locking up as pure dread took hold. It was as if an all-powerful being had just turned its gaze upon them.
Their eyes snapped toward Antilene. And what they saw chilled them to the bone. She stood there, unmoving, blood trailing from her mouth, her nose, her ears, and even her eyes. Yet, in spite of that, she looked like a divine executioner.
Space, time, matter, energy—concepts so vast and fundamental that they shaped the very fabric of existence. Even the abstract—souls, imagination, and countless others beyond comprehension—all of it bent to Antilene's will in that moment.
This was Apex Singularity. This was power incarnate.
"The power Rex gave me…" she murmured, her voice flat, void of emotion. "It's fitting that this… will be the power that ends you."
Her eyes remained locked forward, unblinking. For a moment, her body swayed as the immense burden of the ability tried to crush her.
But she stood strong, knowing that this was her day… so she didn't care to listen to her body.
She had only mastered a single spell—[Reality Overwrite]. It was all she needed. Unlike the rest of Rex's overwhelming arsenal, this one wouldn't destroy her if used carefully.
She took a breath and prepared to rewrite existence.
She was ready. Even if the effects of [Reality Overwrite] only lasted ten seconds, that was enough. If she rewrote Demiurge and the Dragon Lord into mere level 1 beings, just for those fleeting moments, it would be enough for Momon to strike them down. Once they were dead, the reversion wouldn't matter.
But the spell never came. Why, you ask? Because before the incantation could leave her lips, a golden staff pierced through her chest.
Slowly, with trembling disbelief, she turned her head to look behind her—only to see a maid standing there. No… not just any maid. It was Nabe.
Antilene's eyes widened, and her breath caught in her throat. Of all the betrayals she'd feared, this was one she never saw coming.
"Good work, Narberal Gamma," Ainz said in a deep, commanding voice.
Antilene's body trembled as she turned. Her gaze locked onto Ainz, the weight of betrayal crashing into her all at once. Narberal stood silently behind her, emotionless, the golden staff still lodged through her back.
As Antilene's knees gave out, her body collapsed to the ground. Her vision blurred, the world darkening at the edges. Then, just before everything faded, one word escaped her lips—a whisper full of fear and regret.
"Michael…" And with that final breath, the horror in her eyes froze in place—because at the very end, she realized her son had been left behind… in the hands of the enemy.
A few hours later
"N-No, you're lying. She wouldn't… she wouldn't leave me!" Michael screamed, tears pouring down his cheeks in a flood of raw grief. He had only just woken up—only to be struck by the cruel truth that his mother had sacrificed herself, unleashing power so devastating it left the demon and Dragon Lord with no choice but to flee for their lives.
"I'm sorry… it was all my fault," Momon said quietly, his voice heavy with guilt. "I was too weak… I'm always too weak."
He lowered his head, unable to meet Michael's eyes. Michael stared at him, fists clenched, his body trembling with the urge to scream, to strike, to blame him for everything. But he couldn't. He saw it—the difference.
Momon wasn't like him. He had no martial arts. No special skills. Nothing to fall back on except determination and raw physical strength. Meanwhile, Michael had everything… and still, he had been powerless… the most useless one there.
"Mommy… No… it was all my fault." Michael sobbed, his voice breaking as the truth clawed its way into his chest. He was useless—completely, utterly useless throughout the entire battle. Why had he let her take the lead? Why did he, with all his talents and power, stand back while the best mother in the world gave her life?
His cries quickly turned ragged, uglier with each passing second. The most important person in his life was gone, and the weight of that loss crushed him. The pain wasn't sharp—it was suffocating, like a void opening inside his chest, swallowing every breath, every thought.
He collapsed onto the bed, curling into a tight ball, his body trembling. His sobs turned into broken gasps as he fought to breathe, but nothing helped. No amount of air could ease the ache in his chest.
She was gone. His best friend. His world. His mother.