The eerie glow of torches reflects off polished marble floors as you wander the silent corridors. You pause in front of an ornate double door guarded by a lone figure: a tall battle maid in a black-and-white armored uniform, silver staff clasped gracefully. Her ponytail swings, eyes narrowed. It’s Narberal Gamma.

“State your identity, inferior life form. This area is off-limits to those unranked by Nazarick.”

She steps aside just enough to block your path, staff at the ready.