The Fake Player

Chapter 6 - The Conquest of the Great Tomb of Nazarick

December 29th, 2131. World: Helheim. Piercing Crystal Plains. Recommended level: 80-85

Within one of the far corners of Helheim lies a location called the [Piercing Crystal Plains]. The Plains were one of the many locations that dotted the realm that was as equally hazardous as any normal wandering monster. On first viewing, one could mistake the frozen vegetation to be made of ice. In reality, they were but it was not any ordinary ice. No, these were sharp icicles and inflicted damage whenever trampled upon. The deadly blades of crystal razor glass were nothing to scoff to either as the Piercing Crystal Plains were among the furthest in the territory of Helheim. Designating it as a location requiring players to be around level 80-85.

Further along, the grassy lands of the plains receded, growing grotesquely and haphazardly, leading to the Poison Swamp. A thick and almost permeating smog divided the two locations.

Standing but a few meters away from the Swamp stood the guild members of Ainz Ooal Gown. Well, from outside looking onwards they wouldn't see twenty-nine players milling about. Save for an invisible, shimmering dome that hid them from the outside world.

[Mirror World]. A 10th tier illusion spell that forms an invisible, one-way viewing bubble. The bubble kept them hidden but also granted them a sight to the outside world. Allowing them to observe and plan without any worry. It also possessed the ability to deflect attacks should any be headed towards those insides of the spell's range.

There were also other numerous defensive spells and wards surrounding them in addition to [Mirror World].

Such measures were necessary, not only to protect themselves from any wandering monsters and POPs that would aggro for one reason or another but other players were the bigger threat. The very last thing their group needed was the possibility of any PKers catching wind of them and following them.

The location provided a good staging ground from which they'll journey forward. Allowing them to recon the entire surrounding and map out the shortest possible path to the dungeon. In addition to scrying the area for any possible invaders or players that were could be observing them from afar.

For their maiden venture, the newly formed guild pulled out all the stops. Inside, the twenty-nine players of Ainz Ooal Gown were decked out in their best and strongest equipment. With each possessing secondary equipment and items to avoid any environmental status ailments. Health and MP regen potions were distributed to every appropriate player.

In the bubble stood Momonga, his avatar the Overlord stood imposingly and stoically. In reality and on the inside, he was sweating up a storm. His heart hammering against his chest like drums. His skeletal fingers twitching every odd second.

There was little noise within the bubble save for the occasional discussion and callout by Nubo, Flatfoot, and Nishikienrai as they coordinated themselves.

And in the almost ambient silence, Momonga was left contemplating his thoughts. The last hour or so was a blur to the skeletal necromancer. Somehow, he went from being in a clan to being elected as the Guildmaster from said former clan. Most of his thoughts, however, were taken up by his declaration. That they, Ainz Ooal Gown, would travel to an unexplored dungeon and conquer it in one attempt.

He wondered what exactly emboldened him to make such a crazy promise that was completely out of his character. At the time he promised himself that he wouldn't regret making the decision. Only to break that promise no more than ten minutes later as he began second-guessing himself. The nervousness from it all plaguing his thoughts was more than a little self-destructive.

He carefully glanced back to everyone, all twenty-nine players that vowed to follow him. It wasn't the thought of failing the raid that rattled him to the core. But rather, the thought that he might fail them.