Keep him here and make sure he dies.
✦ ✦ ✦
That meant he couldn’t easily ask the twins to help.
Numbers were a major factor in ensuring victory. If Ainz had run into foes of unknown strength who outnumbered him, retreat would be his first consideration. Decem should have done the same.
His best plan was to keep Decem in the dark about the mounting danger until Ainz knew for sure he could kill him. For that reason, he sidelined the twins and avoided summoning any undead.
This was also why he’d dangled them as bait.
He would limit his foe’s options and guide his thoughts, making it so he wouldn’t—couldn’t leave the battle.
It’s the whatchamacallit—the sunk-in cost fallacy. How long this actually keeps him here is… Well, let’s hope he doesn’t figure it out. Let’s hope he doesn’t have much combat experience. I’ve got to at least break his spirit.
✦ ✦ ✦
“H-he’s so scary…”
Aura could hear Mare’s voice quiver, even through the necklace.
“Yup. He is.”
“I didn’t know Lord Ainz could be this scary.”
Aura and Mare knew exactly why their master—the absolute ruler—was fighting this way.
To figure out what his foe could do? That was possibly a part of it. But that wasn’t the main goal.
He was after one thing.
Drag that elf into the muck, don’t let him escape, and make sure he was dead.
If you didn’t know how strong a foe was, then during a fight, you had to think about when to cut your losses and run.
There were many signs that should happen, but barring an outright inability to harm them, a good indicator was when your own health dropped below a certain threshold.
But what if you had plenty of health but were running low on MP?
And had used a lot of magic to get to that point?
If it felt like you’d probably win if you held out a little longer?
It was hard to cut your losses even if you knew you should. Most people took stock of their foes, learned from bad experiences, and made rules for themselves.
But if you had no real combat experience and knew little about your opponent, that made it harder to figure out when to cut and run.
And their master knew that applied here.
Their opponent was a king and extremely arrogant. He’d never fought anyone anywhere close to his level. Which meant it was easy to back him into a corner where he couldn’t run.
“All these cheap lines are bluffs. Lord Ainz really does think like a monster. I know that’s rude, but…”
Aura shivered.
“I can see why Demiurge said Lord Ainz was worse than he could ever be.”
Mare shuddered.
“The way he showed off the scroll usage is really something.”
“All while not revealing what he’s actually capable of.”
An approach this thorough was downright terrifying. And highly educational.
Both agreed they were incredibly fortunate to be serving someone like him.
✦ ✦ ✦
Walls went up as soon as he smashed them.
The sight of this brought a rising irritation beneath Decem’s smile. So much time wasted.
How many times had it been now? He hadn’t bothered counting, but it had to be dozens.
Each wall was fragile enough to take out with a single blow, but this undead was generating several at once and moving around so Behemoth could not reach him.
Weaklings must compensate with schemes. Or perhaps this is the best spell it has, and it’s just desperate.
This undead might not be entirely weak, but it was clearly not as strong as himself or Behemoth. Everything he’d seen so far had reinforced that impression.
If this undead were stronger than Behemoth, it would have attacked it aggressively. Yet, all it did was squirm around pathetically, using defensive spells. Like it was waiting for help to arrive. Behemoth took damage with each wall it smashed, but this was inconsequential. No one would be foolish enough to think they could win like this.
Just a sad, futile hope that if it chips away enough of Behemoth’s health, it’ll be easier for the humans to defeat. But Behemoth has far more stamina than you imagine. You’ll be out of magic first.
A wall down, another behind.
Decem sighed.
The thought of fighting this foe any longer wearied him.
Perhaps that’s its goal. Hoping I get fed up and leave. But how do I wrap this up quickly?
He knew well enough it was smarter to ignore the walls. But Decem’s Behemoth was sorely lacking in other skills. Ignoring the walls meant lumbering all the way around, and if it did that, the undead would just make more.
A game of tag.
Decem could control and command elementals stronger than himself. Normally, you could control only those weaker than you, but the class he had mastered let him escape those constraints. But the downside to it was that sustained combat gradually used up his magic.
He didn’t have to stay focused on controlling Behemoth, so he could cast other spells himself. But that reduced the time he could keep Behemoth in the fight.
Fine. I’ll have to use an attack spell. Behemoth and me: If we’re both attacking, he won’t have time to make walls.
Decem could use spells up to the tenth tier.
This was a realm the run-of-the-mill casters of the world would never achieve, no matter how hard they worked. Only the chosen few were allowed access to it.
But he had managed to get there only by specializing in summoning. It was not his forte. Even so, if he used a tenth-tier spell, he ought to be able to eliminate a mere undead. But was it worth wasting precious magic on this? Should he not keep it in reserve to allow Behemoth to fight more? That thought made him hesitate.
I must convince this undead and the humans that they can never defeat Behemoth or me. That way, they won’t futilely buy time.
He had informed them of the facts but convinced no one.
Nor had he expected to.
Why would anyone believe what an enemy said? Yet, Decem had simply told the truth. Nothing had ever been able to defeat Behemoth. Even an ancient dragon had been no match for it. It had buffed itself with second-tier magic, and the Behemoth’s fists had squished it flat.
Decem himself would perish if the Behemoth turned on him.
His father was likely the only one who could ever have defeated it. But his father was long dead. In other words—nothing alive could win.
Perhaps it thinks it can prevail if I run out of magic, but that’s hardly true.
A caster with no magic left could be easily defeated. That was true for an undead caster and likely the basis for this farce.
And it certainly was a plan with some merit to it.
Decem had specialized in elemental control, and if his magic ran out—and he could no longer keep Behemoth going—his combat abilities would be greatly diminished. But that did not make him weak. He was a top-ranking druid, and his flesh boasted prowess matched by few creatures.
A swing of his fist could cut a fragile human in two. A kick could leave a footprint in steel armor and pulp the organs of whoever wore it.
He was certain he could kill a thousand—ten thousand—soldiers with his bare hands.
Then was there no concern here? He couldn’t quite say for sure.
He had let Behemoth handle all his fights for so long. Killing a few thousand soldiers meant swinging his fists that many times, and he couldn’t be sure his stamina would last that long without making the attempt. Worse—
If I personally wade into the fray, I’ll get human blood on me. How savage!
Decem was proud of his elementalist skills. Taking up arms to personally kill someone was positively barbaric. That had to be avoided at all costs.
So what should he do?
The magic loss is getting hard to ignore. I can still fight…but not for long. I can’t keep Behemoth moving forever. I’ll need to kill the humans outside while keeping my grandchildren immobilized with magic so they cannot resist. Which means I’ve got little to spare.
In which case, he could ill afford to waste more magic on this undead.
Should I ignore the undead and grab my grandchildren? But they’ll likely just summon it again…
That would force him to restart this insipid battle.
And resorting to that itself was unbecoming.
Fighting to win would demonstrate his strength, break their wills, prove his superiority. Failing that would mean they continued to resist him endlessly.
He had to destroy this undead here.
I’m back to that, but how do I do it?
All previous enemies had snapped like twigs under the Behemoth’s blows. He’d never even imagined fighting someone who flitted around, scrabbling for time.