Overlord fanfiction

Ainz Ooal Gown, the mighty undead Sorcerer King was staring at her, his unblinking unwavering red hellfire gaze held her rooted to the spot she stood, the massive figure leaned forward from where he sat and before she could flinch away his large skeletal hand had grasped her by her jaw.

She felt the bones and the many rings of power he wore on his fingers as he gripped her face, she couldn’t look away even as panic and terror were beginning to fill her, from the corner of her eye she saw his other hand come up to her face and she felt the sharpened claw-like finger gently drag across her cheek and over her ear to pull her hair away, then she felt the process repeated on the other side of her head as he pushed the hair away to reveal her other mutilated ear.

It was over, he released her and she went to her knees as he leaned back in his regal seat and in the voice of a king of kings he said: “I find such unjustified mutilations to be obscene.” and with a nearly dismissive wave of his hand he uttered [minor restoration].

Then she felt it, his magic washed over her, it was at the same instant the most glorious feeling and horrible wrenching sensation she’d experienced in her nearly 200 years of life, a burning and inching ripped through her, across her face, over her ears, to the points of her breasts, down her back and to her privates, down to the soles of her callused and broken feet. It was over, barely a flash, a moment between heart beats and she could feel it that the marks of her time in bondage had been washed away as if they’d never marred her flesh at all by the power of the unliving god.

She dared to raise her head to look up, and she saw the Sorcerer King was holding an extremely ornate and clear hand mirror up to her showing her the reflection of her face, and for the first time in over a century she saw herself, her whole self with unblemished face and her long pointed elven ears, she knew a little about magic and well knew that there was no such magic that could restore century old healed-over wounds in elves.
He performed such a miracle on her, a nothing, a less than nothing, just an elf slave, the wellspring that was within her burst open and a hundred years of pain rushed out as she bawled, great gut-wrenching sobs poured from her as she kneeled at the feet of the Sorcerer King as in the distance Kami Miyako continued to scream and burn.