As Ainz watched Uriel sleeping, he noticed something strange. The ground around him, previously covered by verdant grass—a rare vestige of color in this desolate realm—was slowly beginning to freeze. A layer of crystalline ice formed, creeping across the earth like invisible fingers, covering everything with a dense and silent coldness.
Even without skin, without nerves, merely the bones of his skeletal form, Ainz could feel. Feel something new. A wind. A wind that shouldn't exist in the Realm of the Dead.
Here, the air was always still, motionless like a forgotten corpse. But now, icy currents gently swept through the space, causing the branches of the trees still standing to bend under the weight of a fine snow falling from nowhere. Ainz lifted his eyes to the gray, lifeless sky, searching for the origin of this phenomenon, but all he found was the same opaque, eternal veil.
It was then that his gaze fell back on Uriel.
Somehow, everything emanated from him.
The ground around his colossal body was covered in thick ice, and a cold mist slowly rose from his scaled skin. The dragon breathed in a calm, deep rhythm, as if lost in ancient dreams. With every exhale, the cold spread further—but it wasn't an ordinary cold. It wasn't the cruel, indifferent cold of the Realm of the Dead.
It was... comforting.
Ainz quickly turned to the ice giants. Before, trembling, huddled in their makeshift huts, they were now still—not from freezing, but from comfort. The expressions of suffering had disappeared. Even with the fires extinguished, their bodies relaxed as if wrapped in an invisible blanket of warmth. A paradoxical chill, yet welcoming.
The lich remained motionless for a moment, processing everything. He didn't understand. None of this made sense according to the laws of this world—but it was undeniable that Uriel, even unconscious, had altered the very environment around him. The cold, which once was a sentence, was now shelter. Ainz wondered if this power was intentional or merely an instinctive reflection of his dormant master's presence.
And for the first time, since they arrived in this timeless, colorless land, Ainz felt something different from the constant discomfort: peace.
"Your Majesty is incredible. Don't be so impressed, you'll still see many things," Eskandor's voice cut through the silence, emerging behind Ainz with an unsettling naturalness. The sound of his presence made the lich turn abruptly, surprised by the man's closeness, now walking toward him with calm, almost imperceptible steps.
"I didn't even feel your arrival... Was I so immersed in my thoughts?" Ainz reflected internally, a slight frustration spreading through his mind. He didn't know whether what had surprised him was his own distraction or Eskandor's almost supernatural ability to approach without leaving a trace of his presence.
"I'm eager... There's not much I haven't seen, except, of course, what I see now." Ainz spoke the words in a low, distant voice, his empty eye sockets fixed on Eskandor, who seemed uncomfortable under the lich's deep, empty gaze. Being watched by "nothing" must have been unsettling. After a brief moment of reflection, Ainz diverted his eyes, returning his attention to the surrounding terrain.
The land, once alive with grass that, although rare, seemed defiant in such a desolate world, was now covered in a thin layer of snow. Even the lich, with his skeletal and cold figure, felt the slight accumulation of ice crystals on his body. His long, thin fingers, composed only of bones, slowly moved toward the ground. He picked up a snowflake between his fingers, observing the delicate dance of the white particles that somehow brought a sense of softness and mystery.
"Do you remember many things?" Eskandor's voice sounded, soft and curious, breaking the dense silence. "Your armor, although it seems worn, has something familiar... It's as if it's very, very old."
Ainz, with his unchanging presence and bones echoing an endless void, looked at his deteriorated armor. The rusted and corroded metal pieces reflected a dim glow, as if the armor itself carried the memory of past eras. It had been forged at some distant moment, but for him, the concept of time had become irrelevant.
"Because, honestly, I don't know how long it's been... Since I died, I never worried about time. And besides, it's not as if I could know. The Realm of the Dead doesn't follow the rules of time that the living understand. Here, time is just a memory, something the dead can't touch or feel." Ainz replied, his voice echoing like a whisper from beyond, distant and endless.
Eskandor remained silent for a moment, processing the answer. His words, filled with curiosity, returned with more force, his voice now tinged with a slight doubt.
"But... don't things here age? Isn't there no change, no wear? Everything remains untouched, without crumbling, without collapsing... I don't think it's a curse, after all." Eskandor said, looking around as if the very land reflected his words. The environment around them was suspended in endless stillness, with every speck of dust, every stone, every fragment of ice immortalized in its eternal state.
Ainz slowly turned toward him, his empty eyes fixing on the man who now seemed to question the very nature of this timeless world. He felt the weight of his words, a sensation that was strange even to his skeletal form. The truth, so cold and raw, seemed to crawl through his bones, and he couldn't help but respond.
"Yes, but that doesn't mean the same rule applies to you, the living. Here, death shows no mercy. No being that carries the essence of life should be able to endure this place for long. All of you... the living, would be corrupted by the very stillness, by the absence of time, by the immortality of a world that doesn't know the concept of evolution. The only exception... is our master." Ainz spoke, his voice heavy with a somber melancholy, as if he himself were part of what he described. His inhuman expression, devoid of emotion, showed neither regret nor remorse, only the cold recognition of an unrelenting truth.
Eskandor furrowed his brow, thoughtful. His gaze swept over the frozen horizon, where the only movement was the soft drift of snow that piled up endlessly. Restlessness was evident in his eyes, but his voice remained steady, as if his curiosity was only beginning to be satisfied.
"This... is it bad? I mean, I understand that a goddess could live here... but I still haven't seen her appear. It's strange, since this should be her domain, her reign. I never imagined she would leave someone lost, without knowing who she is, without her presence, without her power." Eskandor said, his voice now softer, yet still full of immense questioning.