Discarding one’s arms was the universal sign of giving up the fight. However, Ainz’s attitude did not betray even the slightest hint of capitulation.
This was not a gesture of surrender.
Unable to figure out what Ainz was thinking, Hekkeran was filled with confusion.
“…What are you going to do?”
At this, Ainz smiled. Or rather, he seemed to smile.
He slowly spread his arms. It was an action that resembled an angel reaching out to the faithful, or a mother welcoming her child into her embrace; a loving acceptance of what lay before him.
“You don’t get it? Then let me put it in terms you might be able to understand,” Ainz laughed. “I’ll play with you, so give me your best shot, humans.”
The mood had changed—
He had forsaken his weapon and his shield. That should have meant he had been weakened. But Hekkeran had the feeling that the Ainz before him now was more powerful than before. Indeed, it seemed as though his body had physically grown in size before their eyes, so oppressive was his presence.
A being that grew stronger when abandoning the sword.
When you thought about it, only two answers remained. One would be that he was one of those warrior monks who honed their bodies into living weapons. But if that were the case, his fighting style from earlier—the way he evaded attacks—didn’t seem polished enough for him to be one of their number.
Then, the alternative—
“He’s a magic caster?”
The voice belonged to Arche, who had reached the same conclusion Hekkeran had.
That was it. This was the question at hand. The being before them, Ainz Ooal Gown—was he a magic caster?
It was understandable that they had not considered that earlier. Who could have imagined that any magic caster could have fought on even terms with Hekkeran, the party’s strongest and most skilled fighter?
Magic casters—especially arcane magic casters—had weaker bodies than warriors. After all, if one had time to train one’s body, one could easily spend that time on learning magic. As such, magic casters who could fight on par with warriors were nonexistent.
That was simple common sense.
A being who could turn that wisdom on its head—who could have imagined such a being would be standing in front of them?
As such, Arche’s voice carried the hope that it was untrue, and the desire that her hypothesis would be rejected. Because if it were true, that would mean that Ainz was far more confident in his skills as a magic caster than he was as a warrior.