In the year 2138, there exists something called a "DMMO-RPG." This stands for "Dive Massively Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game." While connected via an intracranial nanocomputer network called a "neuro-nano interface," players experience physical sensations as if they were really inhabiting an imaginary world. And among all the various DMMO-RPGs that had been developed, one stood above the rest.
Yggdrasil.
It had been released twelve years earlier, in 2126, by a Japanese developer. Compared to other DMMO-RPGs at the time, Yggdrasil gave players an incredible amount of freedom.
For example, consider the class system, a fundamental element of character customisation. Counting the advanced classes as well as the base ones, there were well over two thousand. Since each class had only 15 levels, players could have seven or more classes by the time they hit the overall level cap of 100. As long as they met the basic requirements, they could dabble as they pleased. Though it would be inefficient, a player could acquire one hundred classes at level 1 if they wanted to. In other words, the system was such that, unless they were deliberately created that way, no two characters would ever be the same.
By using the creator's tool kit—sold separately—players could edit the appearance of their weapons and armour, as well as the advanced settings of their in-game residences. The environment awaiting players who ventured into this world was enormous. In fact, there were nine worlds: Asgard, Alfheim, Vanaheim, Nidavellir, Midgard, Jotunheim, Niflheim, Helheim, and Muspelheim. A vast world, a staggering number of classes, and graphics that could be tweaked to one's heart's content—it was precisely the amount of customisation that poured nitroglycerin onto the Japanese creative spirit and led to the game's explosive popularity. It got to the point where in Japan the word DMMO-RPG was practically synonymous with Yggdrasil.
But that was all in the past now…
In the centre of a large room, a gigantic circular table shone with an obsidian gleam. Around it were forty-one magnificent seats. Most of them, however, were empty. Once, all the seats had been filled, but now only two were occupied.
The first figure wore a wide jet black robe with purple and gold trim. The heavy golden collar was perhaps slightly overdone, but it suited the figure. The figure's head and hands were void of skin and flesh. Hellish red flames burned in empty eye sockets and rings adorned its bony fingers.
The second figure wasn't quite human either. A man wearing a simple three piece suit and a black cloak coat (a trench-coat with a cloak attached at the shoulders) sat in the chair opposite. The man himself looked like the average male. A little on the muscular side perhaps. It was the little things that were wrong: The man's face constantly shifted and rearranged itself like smoke on the wind. Furthermore, his entire being was slightly translucent, almost diaphanous in nature, just enough to see the wall behind him. One of the only constants about his appearance, in fact, was his left eye: unlike the rest of the man, it was not made of shifting and swirling smoke. Instead, it was a perfectly round crystal glowing crimson.
The former was an overlord, the most elite type of Elder Lich—an undead being that was what remained of a caster who had pursued magic ability to its extreme. The latter was a shamir, a mighty kind of Djinn Lord—an extremely powerful magical being created of the smokeless flame.
Both races occasionally appeared as monsters in the most difficult dungeons. The various types of overlords used the highest-level evil sorcery while the shamir fought well with both weapons and magic, so both were pretty hated.
But these two weren't monsters.
They were players.
The races players could choose from in Yggdrasil were split into three main categories: basic humanoid races (humans, dwarves, elves, and so on); subhuman races, who weren't pretty but performed better than humanoids (goblins, orcs, ogres, etc.); and grotesques, who had monster powers and got more ability points than other races but were penalised in other ways. Including all the elite races, there was a total of seven hundred at the users' disposal. Naturally, overlords and shamir were two of the elite grotesque races that players could become.
The overlord spoke without moving his mouth. Even for what had once been the pinnacle of DMMO-RPGs, it had still been impossible to animate expressions to align with conversation.
"It's been a long time, Raazuka."
"Hmm. Indeed, Momonga," another adult male voice answered. The voice's irritation was palpable.
"What is it Raazu? You sound annoyed."
"Where are they all Momo?" Raazuka sighed, "I know we all have to work tomorrow, but they should be here on the last day."
"I know, but personally, I wasn't expecting anyone at all. Anyway, how's life been treating you?"
"Not well. My health is in tatters, my marriage is falling apart, and I'm still being worked like a slave."
The overlord—Momonga—leaned back to exaggerate his wince. This conversation was killing the mood.
"That sounds bad."
"It seriously is."
Momonga already pitied him, but Raazuka's follow-up just drove that notion home.
Their gripes about their jobs gathered steam: Nasty bosses, obnoxious work colleagues, long commutes that seem to take forever, low pay, stress, micromanaging superiors, too many meetings, long hours. At some point, it was like a dam broke inside Raazuka, and Momonga shifted to a listening role as the complaints flooded out.
There were two requirements that all the members of their guild, Ainz Ooal Gown, had to meet. One was that members had to be working adults, and the other was that they had to play grotesques. Since that's the type of guild it was, real-life woes were a common topic of discussion, which was fine with the members. The conversation these two were having was an everyday occurrence in Ainz Ooal Gown. Enough time had passed that their flood of grievances had calmed to a trickle.
"Sorry, I don't mean to just whine." Raazuka apologised with a bow.
"Don't worry about it, Raazu. You accepted my invitation to come tonight even though you're exhausted, so listening to some complaints is the least I can do—I'll take as many as you've got."
"Really, though, thank you, Momo. I'm glad I was able to log in today and see you after so long."
"It makes me glad to hear you say that!"
"Will you stay for the end?"
"I can't, unfortunately. I wanted this to be a quick reunion, and one last goodbye. I don't think I could bear watching all of this end."
"Ah, that's too bad. I suppose the Tomb shouldn't be alone at the very end. I'll stay."
"I really wanted to stay till the end, but I need to get up early tomorrow."
"Yeah, I can imagine. Log out and rest up."
"Will do. Are you sure you'll be fine?"
"I'll manage, guild master. There's still some time left, so there's a chance someone else might show up before force log out."
"I see… Keep well, comrade."
"That I will. It was fun playing with you my friend."
"And you. See you in the next one, eh?" Ba-ding! A smiley emoticon appeared over Momonga's head. It seemed sad. The same emoticon floated up above the shamir as he nodded slowly. As Momonga pressed the logout button, Raazuka spoke into the burgeoning silence.
"If there is a next one."
With that, Raazuka was alone. A deep silence came over the room. There were no echoes, no vestiges of anyone's presence. No sign that anyone besides Raazuka had ever been there at all. Looking at the chair where Momonga had been sitting until a moment before, Raazuka frowned. It had been evident from their short conversation and the tone of Momonga's voice how regretful he'd been that he couldn't stay. Raazuka couldn't bear to hold it against him.
"And there he goes." Suddenly Raazuka's feelings exploded out of him. "Why weren't you there! Why! Ulbert, Warrior Takemi, Pero, Tabula? WHERE WERE YOU!" His voice had risen to a shout as he slammed his fist down on the table. The game took this as an attack and began a complex set of calculations taking into account the hardness of the table, the strength of his punch and the defence value of his fist to come up with a damage indication: 0. Raazuka stood up tiredly. There was somewhere he needed to be at the very end. Behind him, a staff hung on the wall.
It was based on the god Hermes's staff, caduceus, and consisted of seven intertwined snakes. Each writhing snake held a different-coloured jewel in its mouth: the Sun Gem, the Moon Gem, the Earth Gem, the Fire Gem, the Wind Gem, the Water Gem, and the Time Gem. Anyone who saw it would know it was a top-tier item—it was a Guild Weapon, so named because each guild could have only one. This staff was the symbol of Ainz Ooal Gown. It was meant to be wielded by the guild master, so why was it on display here?
Precisely because it was the symbol of the guild.
If the Guild Weapon were destroyed, it would mean the collapse and dissolution of the guild. So, in most cases, a Guild Weapon was stored in a safe place, its mighty powers untested. Even the weapon of a top guild like Ainz Ooal Gown was no exception. That was why even though the staff was made for Momonga, it had never once been held. Raazuka reached out, but stopped himself. Did he really want to taint the glorious memory of all they had built together now, at this moment before the servers shut down?
Ainz Ooal Gown valued majority rule. Although the title of guild master belonged to Momonga, it was mostly ornamental anyway. Maybe that's why now that no one was left, he thought for the first time that he'd like to try claiming a guild master's rights.
"Well, I can't do it looking like this," he muttered and went into the menu. He would equip himself in a manner befitting the master of a top guild.
The gear in Yggdrasil was classified by how much data it contained: the more data, the better the item. Players started off with low-tier gear, then medium-tier, upper-tier, superior-tier, legacy, relic, legend, and finally god-tier, the highest possible.
Once he exited his menu, eight simple armbands, each with their own power, adorned Raazuka's forearms. His shirt, vest, suit, coat, and cloak were all god tier. From a monetary point of view, each item was an astonishingly rare and valuable treasure. The aforementioned coat hung loosely from his shoulders.
A blue aura shimmered up from beneath his dress shoes, giving him a terrifying appearance. He wasn't using a skill—the robe data had room, so he had just plugged in an "aura of madness" effect. It wasn't like anything would happen if someone touched it. Out of the corner of his eye, Raazuka saw various numbers pop up to indicate his stat increases. Having fully equipped himself, he nodded in satisfaction. Now he was ready to claim what had never been his. Then, he reached out and grasped the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown.
The moment it was in his hands it began radiating an oppressive aura. Anguished faces would occasionally form, warp, and dissipate, seemingly so real one could almost hear their tortured cries.
"So this is what it feels like to be guild leader… Well then, shall we see what you can do?"