He did not dream. When his eyes opened, there was a stone ceiling. Yesterday and the day before, every time he woke, the same ceiling greeted him. He was used to it now—or so he wanted to believe, but his body continued to insist that this place was "not here." Yuto stretched his arm and slowly pushed himself upright. The muscles in his back still ached slightly. The marks from being slammed down by Sharutia five times. Three days had passed since then. For three days, Yuto had spent his time alone in a corner of the sixth floor, repeatedly checking his distance and footwork. Moving his feet across the sand, facing an invisible opponent. In this world, kendo forms didn't work—that much was clear. The door opened. Silently. Despite being locked, it opened normally from the other side. It was Arbedo. Her jet-black hair was braided neatly, and her golden eyes had been watching Yuto from the moment she entered the room. Beautiful, yet the thing dwelling in those eyes hadn't changed by a millimeter since the first day. Pure, unextinguished hostility. She didn't approach the bed. She stood by the door and slowly extended a single thin sheet of paper forward. "[cold]This is an order from Ainz-sama," Her voice was quiet, polite, and yet somehow sharp as a blade. Yuto stood and took the paper. The moment she handed it over, Arbedo withdrew her hand immediately. Making sure Yuto's fingers wouldn't touch hers—deliberately conscious of it. He could read the characters. It was one of the things he'd found strange since arriving here, but the language of this world came naturally to him. Not just the spoken word, but the written word too. The content was brief. A subjugation request. The Great Forest of Tob—the outer edges of the vast forest spreading around Nazarick's underground tomb. Multiple ogres had been appearing there recently. Solo subjugation. Deadline: sunset. No support. (Are they testing me? Or is Arbedo moving behind the scenes?) He couldn't judge. Whether Ainz's order was genuine or whether Arbedo was using this as a "convenient excuse to get rid of me"—both were possible. But either way, the answer was the same. "[serious]Understood," He fastened his thin sword to his waist and put on his shoes. Arbedo still stood by the door. When Yuto moved to pass, she shifted one step to the side—opening just enough space for him to exit into the corridor, but her eyes didn't move. Feeling those golden eyes pierce into his back, Yuto walked forward without turning around. --- When he left Nazarick, there was morning air. The surface had the appearance of an abandoned temple. Moss and ancient stone. Tree roots had split the stone pavement and grown through. Beyond that, the outer edges of the Great Forest of Tob came into view. Ancient trees over twenty meters tall stood densely packed, and the light filtering through their gaps was thin. Even in the morning, it never became as bright as midday—this was that kind of forest. Yuto stood at the forest's entrance and took one deep breath. The smell of damp earth. Decomposing leaves. And—faintly, something with an animal scent mixed into the wind. (They're here.) Broken branches scattered across the ground. Trampled earth. The tracks of something large passing through. Ogres—massive monsters that could weigh over three hundred kilograms, with bodies more than twice the size of humans. In this world's standards, they were opponents that silver-ranked adventurers would handle in groups, Arbedo had mentioned once. Yuto drew his thin sword and followed the tracks with silent footsteps. After walking for about ten minutes, he found the first one. Standing in a small clearing beyond the trees. About two and a half meters tall. Gray skin, thick arms, a crude club made from a stripped branch in its hands. Its face resembled a human's, but its nose was flat and crushed, and its eyes were a murky yellow. Just standing there, its presence made the air feel heavy. Yuto quietly closed the distance from behind a tree. The "one step, one sword" distance of kendo—the range where the opponent's single step would reach him. He held his thin sword ready while thinking. An ogre's arm reach was at least one and a half times that of a human. If he stepped forward directly, he'd enter the club's trajectory. He stepped left. Before the ogre could turn around, he thrust his thin sword at the back of its neck— There was resistance. But. The skin was hard. The blade slid. The sword point glided across the thick skin. Shallow. It wasn't fatal. The ogre roared. The club swung horizontally. Yuto crouched nearly to the ground and dodged. The wind pressure passed over his head. A close call. He recovered. (The skin is hard. Shallow cuts won't work. Deep—the joints, the eyes, the throat.) Dodging the next downward swing by jumping sideways, he thrust his thin sword into the ogre's throat in the instant the club struck the ground. This time, deep. He felt the blade pass through. The ogre fell to its knees, then collapsed forward. First one down. He steadied his ragged breathing and checked his surroundings. Then—the sound of grass being trampled. From the right thicket, a second ogre charged. Fast. Faster than expected. He readied his sword before it closed the distance, kicked off the ground with his left foot, and jumped sideways. He barely avoided the charge, and as they passed, he slid his thin sword into the ogre's shoulder. The ogre swung its arm wildly. That arm caught his flank. The air left his lungs. He flew back one or two meters and hit his back against a tree trunk. His skin didn't tear, but he couldn't breathe. His lungs burned. Still, he stood. He didn't drop his thin sword. The second ogre was still alive. Clutching its shoulder, it came at him with raw fury. Yuto kept his back against the tree trunk and read the trajectory of its charge. Coming straight at him. Raising its club. (Before it swings down—the throat.) He timed it. The moment the club reached its highest point, he stepped forward just once. He entered the ogre's guard and thrust straight at its throat. This time, it went through in one strike. The second ogre collapsed. Yuto placed his hand on the tree beside him and steadied his breathing for a few seconds. His flank throbbed. Probably one or two ribs cracked. Deep breathing sent sharp pain through his body. He checked his surroundings. There was a presence. Behind him, he realized—too late. Claws. A third ogre that had pounced from behind, its claws dug deep into his right shoulder. His vision turned red in an instant. Something burst from his right shoulder. He knew in that moment it had reached bone. Not pain first, but impact. Then, the next moment, searing agony came. His right arm stopped obeying him. He tried to switch his thin sword to his other hand, but his fingers wouldn't move. He fell. Dropped to his knees. His left hand pressed against his right shoulder. Red seeped between his fingers. His body felt cold. Heat was being stolen away. (Stand.) The third ogre stood before him. The largest of the three. Its eyes had completely locked onto him, and it held its club in both hands. It meant to crush his head. That motion began slowly. A voice sounded in his mind. His instructor's voice. From the kendo dojo he'd attended since middle school, the white-haired instructor had repeated these words countless times. "Distance isn't about space. It's about reading the flow of your opponent's center of gravity." The club rose higher. At its highest point—now, the ogre's center of gravity was behind it. Just before the downward swing came, that center would shift forward. If he moved his body in the opposite direction of that shift, he could escape the trajectory. His right arm was useless. Only his left. The moment the club passed its highest point, Yuto moved his entire body one step to the right. The club cut through the air and crashed into the ground. From the recoil of the downward swing, the ogre's body leaned forward for an instant. Its throat was exposed. He switched his thin sword to his left hand and concentrated all his strength into that single arm. One thrust. Deep, straight, into the ogre's throat. The blade passed through. The sensation traveled through his left arm. The ogre slowly fell backward. It hit the ground and stopped moving. Silence returned to the forest. Yuto remained on his knees, his left hand still pressing his right shoulder. His breathing was ragged. The air felt insufficient. Thin light filtered through the gaps in the trees. --- When he reached Nazarick's entrance, Ainz was standing there. A 205-centimeter skeleton wrapped in a jet-black mantle, standing without a word. Red magical eyes had been watching Yuto approach from the entrance. He didn't know how long he'd been there. He didn't know why he was there. But it was clear he had been waiting. Yuto stood before him, pressing his right shoulder. Blood had stained the right half of his clothes. His stamina was near its limit. But he remained standing. Ainz said nothing. He simply observed Yuto's entire body—the shoulder wound, the spread of blood, his gait, the way he held his thin sword—checking each detail as if analyzing them. No emotion. An analytical gaze. "[serious]...Silver-grade at best. There is use for you," That was all. Something small ignited in Yuto's chest. The sensation of being acknowledged. It was the first time. Since coming to Nazarick, Arbedo had directed hostility at him, Sharutia had slammed him into sand, and Ainz had treated him as an "observation subject." Now, with just one sentence, words acknowledging his value had come. But he realized it immediately. Ainz's eyes weren't seeing Yuto as a person. He was seeing him as combat potential. "Silver-grade at best" was a classification. "There is use for you" meant he could be used as a tool. It was completely different from being acknowledged as a person. The coldness dampened half of his joy. He couldn't say anything. He wanted to say thank you, but the words wouldn't come. Instead of his voice, he quietly bowed his head. Ainz said nothing more and turned on his heel, disappearing into the corridor's depths. The hem of his jet-black mantle dissolved into the dimly lit stone passage like it was melting away. Yuto was alone. --- Before returning to Nazarick, he found it at the forest's entrance. Something lay on the ground. At first, he thought it was a piece of wood. But when he picked it up, it wasn't. A black-painted, hard material. The shape was—a curve mimicking a raven's beak. A fragment of a mask. (Void Crow.) The name Arbedo had mentioned in the second story surfaced in his mind. An armed group wearing black raven masks. An organization that repeatedly raided villages and manipulated black fog. A fragment of the mask used by its members lay here. Dried blood clung to the fragment's edge. Recent. At least within the past few days, someone had fought here, or died here. Void Crow had come within a few hundred meters of Nazarick's entrance. That was fact. Yuto put the fragment in his pocket. He thought while walking. Should he report it? If he showed it to Ainz, it would have value as information. But—what if Arbedo came out? What would those golden eyes say when they saw this fragment? He could easily imagine the words: "So you were connected to Void Crow after all." It could be used as evidence against him. His feet stopped. What should he do? He asked himself. No answer came. In his pocket, the fragment pressed against his clothes. As if asserting something, it felt heavy. --- Walking down the corridor, someone approached from ahead. It was Sharutia. Her silver hair reflected the corridor's magical light brilliantly. The bat wings on her back swayed slowly. Those red eyes, with their usual unreadable expression, turned toward him. He stopped. As Yuto approached, Sharutia hal