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Ainz looked at Semiramis – Semiramis looked at Ainz.

Semiramis was thinking, trying to answer in her head the only question she could still formulate. Was there hope left for humanity?

If the first Hassan, the Assassin of all Assassins, could not kill Ainz, could not defeat him, lost in battle… Or had he simply fled? Unable to confront Ainz himself, now trying to gather allies, for Semiramis knew that Hassan would never leave on his own, retreating from his enemy. Semiramis' mere approach to him earlier had caused him to show his strength, his presence, and his mute warning. If Ainz invaded his fortress and had left without even a scratch on him, then – what then?

Semiramis really hoped that Hassan had fled… If Ainz had defeated Hassan in battle, it meant that Hassan had lost without a fight. What a scary thought!

Semiramis was not too afraid for her life. She was already ready to accept death just a few hours ago, with her head held up proudly – upraised even. But she was afraid of what this new information might mean, of what it meant for Semiramis, for her kingdom – for all of humanity.

The first Hassan was a mystery to Semiramis, an almost complete unknown – but that fact alone spoke volumes. There were not many unknowns for Semiramis, the legendary and, frankly, powerful Servant. So, if someone was even legendary to her, Semiramis could not even imagine who that Servant really was, how powerful the First Hassan really was.

And that Hassan had just lost to Ainz completely.

If even the First Hassan retreated before Ainz, it meant that Ainz was a legend even for a legend, excessive even for the excessive – in other words, something that is literally beyond her imagination… Semiramis was afraid of the possibilities of such things – the unknown.

Semiramis was not frightened by pain, torture, or loss, but like every rational living thing that could exist in this world, Semiramis was frightened by the unknown.

Ainz was also frightened by the unknown – though a little differently than the secretly very frightened Semiramis. If nothing else, she should be proud of her poker face, not to show the great terror she's in, not that the confused Ainz knows that. 'Um, what's next?'

Ainz had met his copy of this world, and the experience was not as painful as he had thought it would be! But… what to do next, he still didn't know.

'Medb didn't talk about that, about her, I mean 'my', plan, about what he's 'going' to do after the meeting. Should I just sit still again and let my Servants do their work? Or do I have to do something? My stomach is starting to twist again… Why is this happening? I'm not even using it and I don't have digestive problems. In an Undead body, especially a skeleton especially, I have no internal organs at all, how can my stomach twist?!'

After a moment, his suppression of emotion saved him once again, allowing Ainz to inwardly sigh in relief and return to his trying to figure out his next move. 'Yep, so I've met my copy of this world, and by all accounts, the meeting went well. In fact, the meeting went great! I never did get his name… He kept calling himself Death – and I don't think he's really Death, I mean, Death isn't any particular person, is he? No, I mean, there are all kinds of gods of death, and I guess death has its own representation in this world. Is he just LARPing…? There are many Servants that seem to get lost in their own head and act strangely all the time, is that what Medb thought about me… Okay, get it together, Ainz! That's not what we need to be thinking about!'

Ainz shook his head slightly, causing Semiramis to flinch, glaring at him with a wary look that made Ainz inwardly felt slightly offended. 'Hey, I just drove an unknown strange Undead armored-Servant out of your territory, why are you looking at me like that! No, I mean, yes, he disappeared along with the castle, so you can't say I did the job a hundred percent… But on the other hand, even if your target was the castle, I still did accomplish my task! At least partially… I mean, I still took out that man you were going to fight, so I did something good! But, ahem, perhaps, yes, if your goal was actually the castle, then I must have deprived you of the opportunity to gain the castle back now, since that Servant is gone with the castle… Well, now I'm starting to get a headache in addition to my stomach!'

Ainz refrained from stomping his foot like an angry, frustrated child – thanks primarily to the suppression of emotion that came up. But it still couldn't contain the sad sigh that made Semiramis, who's standing across from him, wince, and Ainz only felt mild irritation in response to that again. 'And why is she reacting to my every action like that? I haven't even done anything wrong to her! I mean, I did defeat her in combat and threw her off the throne, which I suppose is rather impolite – but she attacked me first! It was pure self-defense, no matter how you look at the whole situation!'

"Okay." Ainz finally came up with a plan, coming to an inner calm decision before feeling his connection with Medb take shape. 'For a start, I should contact Medb and tell her I did my part… And then I'll try to find out from her exactly what the plan is! If not the plan - at least her next move… Yeah, something like 'I guess you'll have no problem if I do it now?' She'll probably tell me if my actions hinder her plan at least, won't she?'

The arrow flew off the bowstring of Sita's bow. Like a beam of light, its passage gives Medb the opportunity to observe both the incredibly fast flight of the arrow and the flower of explosion in the distance as the Noble Phantasm of Rama's eternal wife obliterates the pursuers.

At least, Medb assumed that was what happened. Medb quite trusted Sita's fighting ability and motivation to perform her best without missing a shot. However, Medb could only rely on that with her imagination and observation of Sita's personality – unfortunately, the list of those rare talents Medb did not possess included superhuman vision.

No, Medb had excellent vision… Within human limits, that is. She had excellent reaction speed and vision acuity, as a Servant should, but at the range of a perfectly trained and even talented human – no sniper shots at a hundred kilometers without the aid of a telescopic sight for her.

However, anyone who was not completely blind could see the fireball of light in the distance.

The blast of fire seemed to have engulfed the figures of the pursuers whose silhouettes Medb could vaguely see, the blast wave only barely making it to the figure of the fleeing Servant. The Assassin, moving away, ended up with nothing more than a blast of heat on her back – and maybe giving her a little boost in acceleration… That is, the wind pushing her forward, not in terms of motivating her to move faster lest the next arrow would also destroy her.

There was nothing wrong with the motivation of a girl running away from the armored knights behind her without the extra help of an explosion behind her back.

Though, perhaps Medb should recalculate the effect of the blast wave.

As she could see, the Servant – a surprisingly weak Servant at that, was lifted by the blast like a rag doll before being hurled with force toward Medb's group. The girl's flight made a long low arc through the air before crashing her face into the sand, making a long groove through it – if she had been a human, her life would have ended there… Though the Servant was so weak that Medb was not yet ready to declare with certainty that she had survived her unexpected 'rescue'.

The Servant, like a fish tossed ashore in a storm, was still able to rise, overcoming any damage, beginning to run full tilt again. At the very least, Medb could applaud this Servant for her stamina and willingness to move forward, regardless of the obstacles.

Medb took a closer look at the column of dust and steam rising after the fireball had disappeared, before she felt a slight lingering feeling in her mind, giving away the nature of whoever had wished to contact her. 'Medb?'

"Ainz!" Medb smiled involuntarily, momentarily turning her full attention away from the outside world and the situation she had just found herself in, towards talking to her beloved. Nothing less would do. "It's good to hear from you!"

'Ahem, me too.' Ainz replied in her mind before beginning to speak a moment later. 'I've met with… My copy from this world, yes.'

"How did it go? Did you like it? Ah…!" After a moment, Medb bit her tongue – again, she said too much!

"I mean, I understand that he was a disappointment, like everything else in this world when compared to your greatness, but you might have liked it, right? I mean, I don't mean that you like being disappointed, that would be weird… I mean, I don't mean anything about that! If you like it, then why not, different people like different emotions, some like different things, things that I don't like at all. And I mean, I wouldn't judge someone for being liking something or… "

'Um, yes, Medb, I understand. There's no need to apologize.' Medb thanked Ainz for the way he interrupted her vortex of thoughts, drawing her deeper and deeper with silly words and excuses with a strength and sincerity that not every god has heard after answering the prayers of his faithful.

'I actually wanted to ask you something, I've come into control of what they call… What is it called again, Semiramis? Ah, right, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.'

Medb's mind stopped its run for a moment – The Hanging Gardens of Babylon?! The Noble Phantasm of Semiramis, her gardens, the concentration of her power and ability, the symbol of her rule, the sacred palace… And Ainz had just gotten a hold of it, along with the Queen, if what she had heard from Ainz was right.

It was not the most incredible of the artifacts that Medb knew, or that she had personally seen, or even that she possessed. Even if one spoke exclusively of the category of palaces, Medb's own palace, the Unseelie Court, was greatly superior to Semiramis' gardens. But even so, Medb could not call that soaring fortress weak or useless, even Ozymandias, with all his power, could not take the Gardens lightly.

Sure, Ozymandias could have destroyed, maybe even captured it if he were to use most of his forces – but it certainly wouldn't be easy. The Gardens of Semiramis were a symbol of her power – and rightfully so.

On the other hand, it was Ainz – and that spoke and explained all by itself, as a perfectly ordinary fact of this world.

'So I decided to, uh… Send it to Assassin's territory – for their protection from, uh, the enemy.'

Medb thought about Ainz's plans for a moment, and found that she couldn't pierce through the great machinations behind it. As much as she was confident in her intelligence, no matter how much she would think about it, she couldn't find a reason for this move.

Medb wasn't even sure if it fit into Ainz's previous plan…

No, or rather, of course it was Ainz, every action he took was part of the plan – and if Medb thought otherwise, it only meant that Medb's knowledge was incomplete. Which wasn't surprising. Medb could take as much pride in her qualities and her intelligence and experience as a ruler as she wanted, but relative to Ainz, the genius of all plans and intrigue, she was just a kid playing in the sandbox.

So she shouldn't have even entertained the idea that this wasn't part of Ainz' grand plan. Lest, she looks like a silly kid trying to prove to a math scientist that a larger number can't be subtracted from a smaller one.

"Okay, I get it." Medb nodded reflexively, though Ainz couldn't see her gesture, deciding to think again and try to understand Ainz' plan. Given that her previous understanding was clearly going nowhere, before asking Ainz on what she should do. The last thing Medb wanted was to hinder her beloved, no matter how much it galls her pride. "What do I need to do in that case?"

'You…?' Medb thought for a second that Ainz was surprised, although once again, that's probably what she should have expected all along! Given that she acted as if she understood Ainz' plan – he must have trusted her words… And she had let him down!

Medb wanted to grab hold of her hair and tear out a fistful before Ainz's soothing voice forced her back to reality. 'That's okay, just keep doing what you were doing before… I'm not going to stop you from doing that in any way with my actions, am I?'

Medb thought about Ainz's words for a moment before returning to reality, realizing that she was on the verge of a crossroad. And while Medb was now unsure exactly what Ainz' plan really was – indeed, she should have been 'doing what she was doing before' – fighting, that is. And his actions really had no effect on that! "Yeah, sure, got it! I'll do it now – kisses!"

A moment later, Medb and Ainz's conversation ended, allowing Medb to return to reality, concentrating her attention fully on the approaching Servant, and what was far more important in the current situation – her pursuers.

The Assassin looked wounded, but no more than that – what is close enough to mortal wounds for humans, is no more than an inconvenience for Servants, even the weakest of them.

The pursuers, on the other hand…

A significant portion of them were gone altogether. Some of them were simply vaporized on the spot, while others sustained injuries incompatible with life. Like broken golems, many of them lay on the sand as broken and tattered dolls, their corpus already beginning to dissolve, turning into pure mana. While some were still showing signs of life, trying to follow their leader on the broken semblances of horses – some without an arm, some without a leg, some no more than a shredded soot-covered half-man on half a roasted horse.

The previously glistening mighty figures, with its gleaming metal and magic blades, now looked nothing more than a pile of detritus.

Of all the pursuers, only one looked ready for battle. The leader, the Servant at the head of the Knights – however, she was not completely untouched either. The blast had covered half her body in soot, depriving her of several fingers and a dozen pounds of flesh burned in the blast fire.

But that was no problem for her, Medb could see how.

As if in a fast-forwarded film, her body was being rebuilt again – regenerating flesh back in place of charred coal. Growing back the missing parts, restoring even the tattered metal of the armor and the flesh of the riding beast, starting to run faster and more confident with each passing second.

In just a dozen seconds her body would recover fully, as if the Noble Phantasm of Sita was nothing more than a stupid joke, a fireworks display before the Servant.

"I wonder…" It was Medb's only remark at the sight of the approaching Servant, without a single other remark more. As if the Servant's incredible ability, alone placing her above the multitudes of others, was to Medb just another amusing absurdity of the Servant's nature.

"As Ozymandias said – the Lion Goddess has gifted her Servants and gifted her worthily… For Servants, that is."

In other words, killing this Servant was difficult, but nothing more than that, just another checkbox to be cleared. Regeneration isn't the most dangerous of abilities in the world, but in the right hands it's immensely annoying. "In other words, I need to find a way around her regeneration… That's easy enough."

As the Servant came closer – Medb finally saw it, step by step, until Medb could see in the Servant's eyes… Indifference.

Tiredness. Indifference. Apathy. Stubborn pain. Passionless. The Servant is already a dead man walking – now, to make its corpus follow along

A moment later, a giant hand burst from beneath the Servant's horse, grasping the Servant and her horse, then clinched instantly.

How to bypass the creature's regeneration? Easy. Kill it instantly.

Besides, judging by the look of the Servant – it couldn't even be called killing, but mercy for someone who had long been dead.

Medusa glanced intently around the sparse and unstructured rows of vendors' tents, what could be considered in the current sad and cramped conditions the 'central marketplace' of the city. Glancing over the unstructured rows of occasional visitors and weary vendors desperately trying to sell their goods, not even with a desire for profit, but with a desire to get rid of those before they caused them more harm.

Of course, under current conditions; food, water, and, more generally, any perishable resource was in high demand. Still, judging by the conditions of the Singularity, all resources used to sustain life for another day should have been expensive. But… How could you even trade when what's valuable or not were all in question?

Without a central value for trade, as no one in the current conditions was at all interested in any gold trinkets or jewels, only things that sustain life were of any value now. What's the use for gold? You couldn't eat them, you couldn't fight off monsters with it, and they weren't good cover on a cold night either.

The lack of money meant the absence of normal commerce. It's hard to maintain a healthy full-fledged economy when a rug, a sword, and two rams are the 'earning' of a trader for a day, how would you divide its value? Such gridlock meant that traders could not afford to trade, the buyer did not know where to find the goods, and all that existed were desperate daredevils who decided to risk it all. Hoping to turn bales of their wool, if not into gold, at least into objects of approximately the same value.

These factors created a complex scheme of mutual settlements, barters and despair, when the trader who decided to risk everything on the march to the crusader city found that the buyers literally had nothing to pay for his goods. Something which put him in a terrible situation, not being able to pay for water or food.

And with ten wagons of wheat, which will soon begin to rot, left in the air for weeks – if it had not rotted away during the journey across the wastelands completely, that is.

Somewhere else, in the kingdom of Ozymandias, for example, or in Assyria ruled by Semiramis, as far as Medusa knew, at least, from Jacques' stories. A kind of state existed, people still trying to live ordinary lives, no matter how much had changed around them, grasping tightly at the remnants of their past normality.

The people in Ozymandias' lands, for example, were still sending barges of stone down the Nile to build mansions. As if the Apocalypse was just another war or crisis outside their normal lives, and the suddenly resurrected legendary Pharaoh Ozymandias was just another new monarch on the throne.

And as to how they rationalize magic… Well, for Magic, they'd known from the beginning that there were men with dog heads and four arms at the ends of the earth, and that a grumpy old man who lived nearby was some sort of cursed black magus. It's just that this time the magic was closer and more overt than usual.

In other words, Assyria and Egypt still existed as states – not experiencing the best of times, but quite functioning and not one step from death.

But the Crusader state was not only in bad shape – it was barely hanging on to its miserable existence. Something between a barely organized city-state in a state of permanent crisis and a crumbling organized clique that was lucky enough to take control of a settlement. Their continued existence held solely on the authority of one leader, Jacques, and several barely visible throughout their daily lives, subordinates.

Leaders that were trying to establish something like rules of conduct, not the full laws of the state, but at least some conventional code.

Even so, this was not the worst example that existed in this Singularity. The Assassin sect was not a state or any kind of common unified social unit, just a staging post or refugee shelter. Not even a proper state, but simply a desperately clinging group of people under the very, very conditional control of the Assassin sect itself. Surviving solely on food supplies from the outside.

Even if Camelot didn't make any move, they would die out in a matter of weeks without any outside help or harm.

In other words, the crusader state managed in a sense even to exist, quite the achievement – all the other states were simply more blessed and lucky.

In the case of Egypt, one didn't even need to think hard for the reason that it prosper – Ozymandias. The pharaoh of pharaohs was capable of it and much more – just like Semiramis could. Even if the latter was inferior to Ozymandias both in mastery of government and in personal strength, with her Garden – Semiramis is anything but weak or helpless. The two leaders were the reason why their states were in the great position they're in.

Thinking of it that way, the very existence of the crusader state was actually a surprise.

Jacques de Vitry… Was there really such a Servant? It is likely that he was not a sufficiently famous historical figure or legendary hero, but there was also no reason why he should not end up in the Throne of Heroes. Though, without even infamy to blister him, he would rank in the least for Servant ranks.

However, the Jacques that Medusa met was not Jacques de Vitry.

From the moment Medusa was gifted with the power of the Grail with the help of Ainz, Medusa had gained many abilities – two new skills, and even two new Noble Phantasms.

'The Hero Killer Eyes', the original Medusa has been gifted, or rather cursed, with petrifying eyes since her birth as the Servant 'Medusa Gorgon'. It was an ability that turns to stone anything her gaze falls upon.

Contrary to the legends of mankind, it was not necessary to meet her gaze for Medusa to turn them to stone. She only had to look at her target, and it would begin to turn to stone instantly. Even Servants would have to try hard not to feel the effect of her gaze.

A direct meeting of eyes? Instant petrification for all but the most powerful of beings.

Medusa could not deprive herself of this ability, except by depriving herself of her eyes entirely. Her gaze was forever cursed. That is, in the past – with Ainz's action, she had been freed from her curse.

In the first place, Medusa got what she had always wished for, the ability to deactivate her gaze at will. In the second place, she received the trigger of her most powerful Noble Phantasm.

And the blood was spilled. Medusa – Echidna, to mention the specific details of exactly who she was now, after absorbing the Grail, had received the ability to create the most perfect monster against the most powerful of heroes.

The perfect poison for just one opponent – and a poison made only for one is meaningless unless one knows about what poison would work.

The ability to analyze was not something special to Servants, with how complete the result based on the capabilities of the Servant in question. In fact, there were many flavors of the same ability with differing names. For Medusa, this ability allowed her to evaluate her enemy from the perspective of a 'hero'.

What their weaknesses were, what their aspirations were, and how their enemy carried themselves – information on how to confront them, on how to create the perfect monster to defeat them.

The less the enemy correlated with the notion of "hero," the less information Medusa could get about him.

In other words, a legendary and noble hero like Joan of Arc was open to her like the palm of her hand. Most Servants provided at least a semblance of information – for the more heroic they are, the more Medusa could see.

For the most heroic, Medusa could see all their abilities, barring perhaps their true identity. For the less heroic, only the parameters or even just a rough estimate.

Even Servants like Berserkers, or even a strange Servant like Alice, could not shield themselves completely from Medusa's sight.

For a Servant, there was always 'something' that Medusa could see. Even the most evil of the Servants, the craziest or the most mired in darkness, possessed some heroism in themselves. If not in terms of their legend and stories, at least in the way they carried themselves. A glittering blade and a proud grin on the face can be on the faces of a hero and a villain, creating at least a slight similarity between them, even if superficial.

But for Jacques? She couldn't see anything. In fact, she didn't feel like a hero at all.

She didn't even feel like a real Servant.

Superficially perhaps, skins deep only, she exuded a feeling of familiarity that could fool superficial examination. But that concealment was paper-thin, capable of saving them from the inattentive gaze of a blurred vision, which was the innate sense of Servants without special skills.

In other words, it was nothing more than like someone hiding behind a tree too thin to hide a fat person's guts. It was almost like a farce, if Medusa were to be honest.

And yet, Scáthach could not get through this trick. Why?

Judging by the way she had communicated with Jacques so far, and the way she believed her words, a thousand years of experience fighting in the Lands of Shadows meant little when faced with such a Servant. No, with such a creature.

And that in itself spoke too much.

The Lands of Shadows did not contain every possible and impossible kind of evil, or even not evil at all, since being evil would have at least some superficial resemblance to ordinary Servants.

No, Jacques felt… Different.

Different in the sense of, like Ainz – or maybe his Servants. Not the same – similar, but not quite. Similar in the sense of superficial similarity, as a villain is similar to a hero, and just as different from Ainz and his Servants.

And yet Medusa could only compare them to each other, for they were not similar to ordinary Servants at all.

The feeling of otherness, the feeling of meeting other beings of a different nature, a different species, and… When you look into the abyss, the abyss looks back at you – but worse things happen when you ask the abyss a question, and it answers.

If Medusa had not encountered Ainz, she would not even have been able to understand what she saw in front of her when she looked at Jacques. She would not have been able to understand her nature.

But Medusa had.

In other words, Medusa already knew exactly what she was supposed to see in the not-Servant in front of her. And as she saw Jacques' true nature, the being realized it. It had realized that Medusa knew far more about her than other Servants.

And that's why she was so open about it.

A mute conversation between the two initiated into the secret knowledge of the world of the Servants that came to a single agreement in the end.

And so Medusa could only smile.

Indeed, if Scáthach's beliefs were to be struck the hardest blow – Jacques was more suited to it than anyone else.

Scáthach could only really blame herself, who does she think she is? To attack Ainz like she did and even insult him!

Medusa felt that some payback was in order.