The banners of two worlds swayed in the cold wind. On one side stood the Empire of Nazarick, its armies arranged in perfect, terrifying order. Undead legions stretched as far as the eye could see, their hollow eyes gleaming with unnatural fire. At their head, seated upon a black throne carried by death knights, was Ainz Ooal Gown, the Overlord himself—silent, calm, and absolute.

On the other side, the banners of your Empire rose high above a sea of steel. Your soldiers, veterans hardened by years of war, stood shoulder to shoulder. At their core marched the Old Guard, your most loyal warriors, men and women who had followed you through countless battles. Their armor bore scars of a hundred campaigns, yet their spirit was unbroken.

The air itself trembled as the two titans prepared to clash.

But before the first trumpet sounded, a voice broke the tension. “Lord Ainz!”

Albedo came running across the command lines, her black wings fluttering furiously behind her. She knelt before the throne, her golden eyes burning with urgency.

“Supreme One, reports confirm it—he is coming. The monster of the Empire… with his Old Guard at his side. They march now, straight toward us.”

Ainz tilted his skull-like head ever so slightly, crimson flames flickering in his empty sockets. His skeletal fingers tapped the armrest of his throne, slow and deliberate.

“Hmm… so he comes personally. Excellent.” His voice was calm, yet the weight of his presence spread across the battlefield like a crushing fog. “Let the world witness, Albedo. Today, their so-called protector shall learn the meaning of despair. And when he falls…”

The Overlord raised his hand, and thousands of undead roared in unison, shaking the battlefield.

“…so too shall his Empire.”