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...The Slane Theocracy, the oldest and most powerful human nation on the continent, stood as a beacon of divine authority. Founded by the Six Great Gods, it had remained unshaken for centuries, safeguarding humanity from the monstrous races that lurked on Helda.
Among its many military forces, one stood above all others-
The Black Scripture.
The pinnacle of the Theocracy’s military might, the Black Scripture is a unit composed of the most elite warriors and spellcasters the nation had ever produced. Each member was a legend in their own right, capable of facing foes that would obliterate ordinary armies. Rich in divine relics and armed with World-Class Items, they existed as the ultimate safeguard of the Theocracy’s rule,-a force so overwhelming that their mere presence on the battlefield dictated the outcome of wars.
Their past victories were etched into history.
It was the Black Scripture that had slain the Dragon Lord of the Abyss, a being who had once terrorized the continent with its unfathomable power. It was they who had defeated a monstrous being so powerful that its very existence threatened to shift the balance of the world. Time and time again, they had emerged victorious against seemingly impossible odds, eliminating threats before they could ever rise against humanity.
Each member of the Black Scripture was no ordinary warrior. They were hand-picked from the strongest bloodlines, their bodies enhanced through divine blessings and sacred rituals. Their abilities were further bolstered by the Theocracy’s secret arts,-methods designed to create warriors who could stand against even the mightiest of adversaries.
And at their head stood their strongest warrior, a being whose mere presence commanded fear and respect.
The "Extra Seat",-a title reserved for the strongest combatant in the Black Scripture. A warrior beyond human limitations, their strength rivaled that of heroes from myths long past. Some whispered that they bore the blood of the Six Great Gods themselves, their existence a testament to the Theocracy’s divine right to rule.
But even among their ranks, there was one who stood above all others.
A being known as “No Death.”
A God-Kin. A warrior who had inherited the divine essence of the Theocracy’s founders. An existence so powerful that many believed she was humanity’s greatest weapon against the unknown horrors of the world.
And now, the Black Scripture moved once more.
Summoned in the wake of catastrophe, they gathered within the sacred halls of the Theocracy, their expressions grim. The news of war had reached them. The Sorcerer Kingdom had declared its intent to annihilate their homeland.
The Black Scripture had never known defeat.
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And as they prepared to march into battle, they carried with them the will of the Six Great Gods.
Failure was not an option.
For they were the sword of the Theocracy.
And the time had come to strike.
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The frozen floor of Nazarick, the Lair of the Lost, was a place of eternal stillness.
The air was deathly cold, a frost mist clinging to the towering crystal like pillars that came from the ground like frozen fangs. The walls shimmered, composed of translucent ice that refracted dim light in patterns, revealing the silhouettes of those within.
Lined up in neat, orderly rows, in the thick layers of enchanted ice, were the remains of powerful warriors,-former enemies who had dared to stand against the Sorcerer Kingdom. Some were mere knights and captains, their expressions locked in final moments of futile resistance. Others were once heroes, their power undeniable, yet now reduced to trophies of battle.
At the very center of the chamber stood two prominent figures, their frozen bodies resting upon raised pedestals like sacred relics.
Brain Unglaus - a warrior whose blade had nearly reached the realm of gods, frozen in time, his face locked in an expression of quiet defiance.
And beside him, the ultimate warrior of humanity,-No Death, the strongest God-Kin of the Slane Theocracy. Unlike the others, her ice prison pulsed with a faint golden glow, divine energy still radiating from within. She had been the Theocracy’s greatest shield, a being bred for war, her lineage tied directly to the Six Great Gods themselves. And yet, even she had fallen.
And now, she would be remade.
A group of figures stood before them, the chilling air doing nothing to affect their undead bodies.
At the center of it all, Ainz Ooal Gown gazed upon the frozen warriors, his red orbs gleaming with quiet amusement beneath his skeletal visage.
To his right, Demiurge, ever the tactician, adjusted his glasses, his mind already racing through the final stages of the conversion process. To his left, Albedo stood motionless, her expression unreadable, though a hint of satisfaction danced in her golden eyes.
Ainz raised a bony hand. “Let us begin.”
The preparations had already been made,-ritual circles inscribed with ancient runes glowed beneath the frozen captives, the magic humming with unstable energy.
The process to turn these humans into something… superior… was a complex one.
Step one: Complete mental subjugation.
Victims’ minds were not simply erased. That would be wasteful. Instead, Nazarick’s specialists,-Demiurge and Albedo, along with the assistance of various mind-affecting entities such as the Neuroi Mindflayers,-would reshape them. Their memories would be filtered, their sense of self rewritten, until their loyalty to the Sorcerer Kingdom was absolute.
Step two: Enhancement of the body.
Ordinary humans were too fragile to be of use. Even the strongest warriors had limits. Thus, the bodies of Brain Unglaus and No Death would be reforged,-imbued with the essence of demons, and magic beyond mortal understanding. Flesh would be altered, bones strengthened, souls entwined with the dark energy itself.
Ainz watched as the rituals commenced.
Black tendrils of energy seeped into the ice, wrapping around the bodies of the captured warriors. A dim glow pulsed through their frozen flesh, their features twisting slightly as the magic took hold.
Ainz turned toward Demiurge. “How long until the process is complete?”
Demiurge smiled, his tail flicking behind him. “Not long, Ainz-sama. The transformation is proceeding as expected. Soon, they will no longer be human. They will be something greater.”
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Time passed.
And then,-
Brain Unglaus awoke.
The ice around him shattered, chunks of crystal falling to the ground in a deafening crash.
His body felt… wrong.
He gasped, stumbling forward, his hands grasping at the air. His fingers felt stronger, longer,-his nails sharpened into claw-like points. His skin was no longer the same,-black markings etched across his arms like veins of dark power. His heartbeat was silent, yet he felt a surge of unnatural energy coursing through him.
The chamber smelled different.
He could sense things now,-emotions, intent, life forces flickering in the distance like candle flames. His body was lighter, stronger, more refined than he had ever imagined.
And then, he saw him.
The Supreme Being.
The strongest sorcerer in Helda.
Ainz Ooal Gown.
The undead king who had crushed his rival, Gazef Stronoff. The man he once feared,and still respected.
And yet, as Brain looked upon him now, his heart did not swell with terror.
It swelled with devotion.
His mind, once filled with doubts and memories of his former life, now belonged to something far greater. He had been remade, reforged in the image of his new master.
He was no longer human.
He was a Demon-Kin.
And his life now belonged to Ainz Ooal Gown.
Brain fell to one knee, placing a fist over his heart.
“I exist to serve you, my lord.”
Ainz gazed upon his newest subject, the corners of his skeletal mouth curling ever so slightly in satisfaction.
“Rise, my warrior.”
The rebirth of brain Unglaus,is complete.
And soon, the world would tremble.
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