The bald old man turned halfway around and looked at the woman wearing an utterly carefree expression.
His already drooping eyelids lowered even further.
“Don’t forget your assignment.
Hurry up and bring us the people we need.” “Don’t worry~ Kha~jiit~” The woman spoke with laughter in her voice, sounding energetic, lively, and almost adorable.
Lucien did not lower his guard.
The deranged female laughter he had heard earlier had come from her.
More importantly, the woman was wearing almost nothing beneath the large cloak wrapped around her body.
That meant the moment the cloak came off, she could enter combat immediately.
She had long limbs and a lean but powerful physique.
Her weapons were concealed in exactly the right places.
After only a brief examination, Lucien could already tell that she was a highly capable female assassin.
Her lower limit was certainly not low.
As for exactly how high her upper limit might be, he could not determine that yet.
Strength was not something that could be judged purely by appearance.
The old man and the cloaked woman approached Lucien’s position one after the other.
Although they walked side by side, they maintained a careful distance from each other.
They clearly did not trust one another and seemed to be temporary allies brought together by some kind of agreement.
Lucien remained completely still.
He was still under Perfect Invisibility.
While that skill was active, he was confident that even if Ainz himself were standing here, he would need specialized equipment and several high-level anti-stealth measures to pinpoint Lucien’s location.
Even so, as the two passed directly beside him, Lucien still felt a faint trace of tension.
Perhaps he simply had not experienced enough truly dangerous situations in reality to remain completely unaffected.
After watching them leave, Lucien looked back toward the place from which they had appeared.
Since he had already come this far, and Ainz was available as backup, Lucien quickly crossed the open area.
Only when he approached the corner did he slow down slightly.
There was activity inside.
It was not particularly noisy, but it sounded as though a group of people were manufacturing something.
For the sake of maximum caution, Lucien summoned a level seventy Shadow Clone.
Its abilities and skills were identical to his own, though its overall level and numerical attributes were lower.
Its combat strength was mediocre, and its intelligence was poor.
If it encountered a genuine expert of the same level, it would probably be destroyed within only a few exchanges.
The advantage of this clone skill, however, was that even if the clone were destroyed, Lucien’s true location would not be exposed.
He prepared himself to retreat at any moment, then controlled the clone as it entered stealth and moved deeper inside to gather information.
Through their shared vision, Lucien first saw several strange figures.
They appeared to have already undergone the early stages of some kind of transformation.
They could no longer be considered entirely human and seemed closer to undead beings.
Yet the transformation was incomplete.
They were caught somewhere between life and death, neither fully alive nor fully undead, much like the old man who had just passed by.
Lucien remembered that in YGGDRASIL, items and skills could temporarily or even permanently alter a character’s race.
Such methods had extremely low requirements and were common enough that almost anyone could access them.
Because of that, Lucien immediately dismissed the possibility that these people simply lacked the skill to complete their transformations.
That meant they were natives of this world.
They were some kind of unique race or condition that had never existed in the game.
They were worth taking seriously.
This world really was filled with mysteries.
The clone moved farther ahead.
Lucien then saw a group of human men.
Some were locked inside cages, listless and hollow-eyed.
Others had been stripped to the waist and were being forced by masked figures to manufacture something in large quantities.
Lucien sensed nothing unusual from the objects they were producing and could not determine what they were.
After searching the surrounding area more thoroughly, the clone caught the unmistakable presence of magic.
The concentration was not low either.
It was clearly coming from a fairly high-grade magic item.
That immediately piqued Lucien’s curiosity.
Following the magical presence, the clone eventually stopped in front of an especially thick iron door sealing off the most isolated section of the facility.
This was the source of the magical energy.
Whatever the item was, it had to be beyond that door.
Lucien could even faintly sense what seemed to be a crown radiating an enormous amount of magical power.
Yet when he reached this crucial point, Lucien hesitated.
Everything about this infiltration had gone far too smoothly.
The fact that they could restrain a Skeletal Dragon meant their strength was unquestionably far beyond the amateur adventurers operating around E-Rantel.
This underground stronghold was meticulously concealed.
The organization itself was mysterious.
And yet from the moment Lucien entered until now, he had not encountered a single anti-thief trap.
Did that make any sense?
The clone was only level seventy.
There should have been plenty of traps it could not avoid.
Lucien’s brow tightened as he weighed the possibilities.
There might be an enormous danger hidden behind the door.
But there might also be a treasure inside that he would regret losing for decades if he walked away now.
Of course, Lucien had methods for checking traps and determining the situation inside a room before entering.
The problem was that his clone could not use those abilities while maintaining its highest level of invisibility.
Should he take the risk?
Just as Lucien was struggling with the decision, his friend list suddenly opened.
Ainz had sent him another message.
“Lucien, how is the investigation going?
Do you need assistance?” The sudden question interrupted Lucien’s thoughts.
He quickly typed a response.
“Not for now.
I haven’t encountered anything dangerous enough to make me nervous.
Why?” “It’s like this.
One of my most capable strategists, Demiurge, the Defense Commander of the Great Tomb of Nazarick and Floor Guardian of the Seventh Floor, would like to meet you.
Would that be convenient?” Demiurge?
Lucien knew that name.
He had memorized information about the NPC in considerable detail when he had looked through publicly available material on the Great Tomb of Nazarick.
Although Demiurge was level one hundred, his direct combat parameters were relatively unimpressive.
In a one-on-one battle between max-level players, unless his opponent entered the fight completely unequipped, there were probably very few who would actually lose to the demon commander.
After considering the matter briefly, Lucien reached a conclusion.
Ainz had arrived in this world together with an entire guild base.
Lucien, on the other hand, was a lone player with no headquarters and no organization supporting him.
Sending an intelligent strategist to meet him was most likely meant to determine whether Lucien truly possessed enough value to justify forming a relationship with him.
That was perfectly reasonable.
If their positions were reversed, Lucien would have done the same thing.
That realization also affected how he viewed his current situation.
If he recklessly entered the sealed room and tried to steal the mysterious crown, only for something to go wrong, it might dramatically lower Demiurge’s assessment of him.
And if that happened, then should Lucien ever encounter a genuinely serious problem in the future, asking Ainz for help might become much more difficult.
“I’m free.” “Excellent.
I’ll have Demiurge wait for you at the same establishment we used earlier.
Finish whatever you’re doing first.
There’s no need to rush.” After sending the final message, Lucien closed the conversation window and recalled his clone.
He had already confirmed the location of the underground stronghold.
There was no need to rush whatever was hidden inside.
The first quality required of a perfect hunter was patience.
There was no reason to be impatient.
But as the perfect assassin and the perfect thief, whatever was inside would eventually belong to him.
Around forty minutes later.
The establishment looked exactly as it had before, and the private room they had rented was still available.
This time, however, Lucien had barely reached the upper floor when he saw a gentleman waiting near the staircase.
The man wore a burgundy checked suit with matching trousers.
His polished leather shoes gleamed, and a pair of small round glasses rested neatly on his face.
He appeared to have been waiting at the top of the stairs for some time.
The moment Lucien arrived, the man raised his right hand toward the empty space above his head, swept his arm through a graceful arc, then placed it across his chest and bowed deeply.
“You must be Mr.
Lucien Vale, the ace assassin Lord Ainz spoke of.
I am Demiurge, Defense Commander of the Great Tomb of Nazarick.
It is an honor to meet you!” “Hmm…” This was Lucien’s first time receiving such a formal gentleman’s bow.
He lightly tipped the brim of his hat in response.
“You specifically asked to meet me.
Is there something you wanted?” “Of course!
Please allow me to speak frankly.
For Lord Ainz to hold you in such high regard, I can only assume that you have already reached an understanding regarding Lord Ainz’s meticulous plans.
I came here today because I wished to confirm several details with you.” Lucien had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.
He also did not understand why Demiurge was still maintaining the bow, or why such an obvious smile remained on his face.
“Are you sure you haven’t misunderstood something?
Ainz never mentioned any plan to me.” “This…” Demiurge’s eyes suddenly widened.
Still bent forward in his bow, he slowly raised his head.
The confidence on his face had already transformed into stunned disbelief.
That disbelief gradually became alarm.
Had he overstepped his authority?
Had he presumed to interpret the will of a Supreme Being without permission?
If so, he might not only have failed to assist Lord Ainz’s plan, but could even have become an obstacle to it.
His thoughts accelerated violently.
Under Lucien’s confused gaze, Demiurge remained silent for five seconds.
Then his eyes suddenly lit up with realization.
“I see!” “I understand now!” “Mr.
Vale, please allow me to apologize for my earlier discourtesy and disgraceful behavior.
Please, come inside so that I may properly make amends!” (To be continued.)