Dear readers,
I welcome you to this humble endeavor, my very first novel. As a novice writer, I have embarked on a journey to put my own spin on the beloved world of Overlord. While this story may deviate from the established path in certain ways, I aim to infuse it with a humanized touch that reflects my own vision and creativity.
I must admit that time has been scarce, leaving little room for extensive revisions. So, please bear with any imperfections you may encounter in these pages. Rest assured that I am committed to honing my skills and will diligently review and improve this work tomorrow.
Thank you for joining me on this writing adventure. Together, let us explore new dimensions and breathe life into the Overlord universe with our imaginations.
The last light of the day was fading, casting long shadows over the digital landscape of Yggdrasil. A lone figure, shrouded in an aura of darkness and power, stood at the top of a high tower, gazing out at the world below him. This was Momonga, not a skeletal lich in this world, but a demon lord of formidable stature. His crimson eyes glowed with a burning intensity, horns curved from his head, and black wings unfurled from his back. He was the picture of dark majesty.
His interface displayed the time in the corner of his vision: just a few minutes left until midnight, when the servers of Yggdrasil would shut down for good. A wave of melancholy washed over him, not for the first time this night. It was a feeling that was strange and out of place in this world of fantasy and adventure, but it was real nonetheless.
Suddenly, a voice broke through his reverie. "Momonga, are you there?" It was Touch Me, one of his guildmates, and a Supreme Being. His voice carried a note of sadness that mirrored Momonga's own.
"Touch Me," Momonga responded, turning to face his friend. His voice echoed with a demonic resonance, lending a chilling edge to his words.
"I just wanted to say goodbye, old friend," Touch Me said, his avatar, a radiant paladin, seemed to glow a little less brightly. "It's been a great run, hasn't it?"
"Yes, it has," Momonga agreed, his voice softening. The two shared a quiet moment, reminiscing about the adventures they'd had, the battles they'd fought, and the friends they'd made.
As the clock neared midnight, Touch Me finally broke the silence. "Well, I guess this is it," he said, a touch of regret in his voice. "I'll see you on the other side, Momonga."
With those parting words, Touch Me's avatar disappeared, leaving Momonga alone once again.
For a moment, Momonga stood in silence, the departure of his friend leaving a hollow feeling within him. Then, shaking off his melancholy, he called upon his guild commands. "All NPCs, assemble in the Throne Room." He ordered, his voice echoing through the halls of the Great Tomb of Nazarick.
In response, the Throne Room filled with the projections of various NPCs, each representing a character created by the members of Ainz Ooal Gown. Shalltear Bloodfallen, Demiurge, Aura and Mare, Cocytus, Sebas Tian and so many more; they all stood in silent attention, their digital eyes focused on Momonga.
Momonga looked at each of them in turn, a mixture of pride and sadness filling him. These NPCs were the testament to the creativity, camaraderie, and sheer fun he and his friends had experienced in this world. They were a piece of each Supreme Being that had once graced this place with their presence.
The demon lord stood tall, his wings stretching out behind him as he addressed his silent audience. "Ladies and gentlemen of Nazarick, as you know, our time in this world is coming to an end. I wanted to take this opportunity to thank you all. You have fought bravely, served loyally, and have been an integral part of our guild's story."
He paused, looking out at the crowd of NPCs. "Each of you represents a piece of a friend I once had here. You're more than just lines of code to me. You're a reminder of the good times we had, the challenges we faced, and the bonds we forged."
He took a deep breath, his digital heart pounding in his chest. "I wish... I wish that you could understand the emotions I'm feeling now," Momonga said, his voice filled with a strange mix of nostalgia and longing. "To be honest, I don't want this to end. I want to keep adventuring, keep fighting, keep creating stories with you all."
The room was silent, the NPCs unable to respond, yet they seemed to echo his sentiments in their own silent way. They stood tall and proud, their existences bound to this guild, to their creators, and to Momonga. He knew it was just a result of their programming, but he couldn't help but feel a connection to them.
As the final minute approached, Momonga raised his head, looking at the digital clock hovering in his field of view. "But all things come to an end, I suppose," he said, more to himself than to his audience. "Even if I don't want them to."
His eyes moved over the assembled NPCs one last time. Their creators may have left, but they remained, a testament to the guild of Ainz Ooal Gown, to the friendships formed, to the adventures had.
"The world of Yggdrasil may disappear, but the memories will remain," he said, his voice resonating in the vast throne room. "And who knows what the future might hold?" He added, his words tinged with a mysterious anticipation.
And with that, he fell silent, his gaze fixated on the clock. He could almost hear the seconds ticking away, each one a step closer to the end of this world. His world.
In the silence of the throne room, filled with unmoving NPCs, the digital clock ticked down to the last seconds. Momonga's mind raced, filled with a whirlwind of emotions and memories. As he stared at the clock, his hand slowly reached out, hovering over the command console ready to logout.
And then, as the clock struck midnight, his hand moved, inputting one final command. The world around him began to fade, but not before he saw the result of his command. The Throne Room, once filled with still projections, began to stir. And then everything went dark.
The encompassing darkness began to recede, replaced by the subtle golden glow of the Throne Room. Momonga slowly opened his eyes, finding himself still standing in the same place he had been moments ago. The NPCs were all there, their forms shimmering in the ambient light, but something was different.
Momonga blinked, taking a moment to process his surroundings. He wasn't supposed to be here. The game should have ended. But here he was, standing in the Throne Room of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, surrounded by his loyal NPCs. He looked down at his own form, his demonic visage seemingly unchanged.
Curious, he tried to access the game's interface, but found no response. The usual HUD, the menus, the notification tab - everything was gone. Yet he could feel the hard marble beneath his feet, could see the minute details of his surroundings, could hear the quiet rustling of the banners hanging high above.
His eyes then fell on the NPCs. They were the same as before. Shalltear with her elegant attire, Cocytus with his insectoid features, Sebas Tian with his human-like appearance, Aura and Mare with their elven characteristics - they all stood as still and silent as ever. But there was an undeniable sense of vitality about them now, their eyes glinting with a life-like spark.
He recalled his last command, the one he had entered just as the game was supposed to end. A simple test, a last-second whim. It shouldn't have done anything. It couldn't have... could it?
Just as he was mulling over the implications, Albedo, the beautiful succubus and the overseer of the Floor Guardians, suddenly stepped forward. She moved with a grace and fluidity that was far beyond her programmed parameters.
"Lord Momonga," she greeted, her voice echoing through the vast throne room. There was a distinct emotion in her tone, a warmth that had never been there before. It was different, yet it felt natural, as though this was how it always should have been.
A myriad of emotions flooded Momonga. Confusion, surprise, a strange sense of excitement, but above all, a profound uncertainty. He was in uncharted territory now, a realm beyond the confines of the game he had known and loved.
He looked at Albedo, then at the rest of the NPCs. The game of Yggdrasil had indeed ended, but it seemed that a new chapter was just beginning. But what did this mean for him? What did this mean for the NPCs who now appeared more alive than ever? And most importantly, what was he supposed to do now?
As these questions swirled in his mind, Momonga could only stare at his loyal subjects, a sense of anticipation hanging heavy in the air. Something had changed, of that he was certain. But what this change signified, only time would tell.
Momonga, still lost in his thoughts, slowly rose from his throne. Each step he took echoed through the silent throne room, the weight of uncertainty heavy in each footfall. He walked towards the assembled NPCs, their faces reflecting a mix of loyalty, anticipation, and a hint of curiosity.
His first stop was Albedo. She stood tall and regal, her beauty a stark contrast to his demonic form. Up close, he could see the minute details that he had only glanced at before - the delicate texture of her wings, the gleam in her eyes, and the soft rise and fall of her chest. Momonga was taken aback; such realistic animation was far beyond Yggdrasil's capabilities.
"You look as lovely as ever, Albedo," Momonga said, his voice echoing with a newfound respect. He was not merely complimenting her aesthetics, but the lifelike detail that was now apparent in her form. Albedo blushed, her expression shifting in a way Momonga had never seen before. It was so... human.
Next, he moved to Cocytus. The warrior insectoid was as imposing as ever. His chitinous armor gleamed under the room's light, each spike and edge frighteningly real. "Your form is as intimidating as ever, Cocytus. It would strike fear into the heart of any enemy," Momonga noted, his hand reaching out to touch the warrior's carapace. It was hard and cold to the touch, a real sensation that sent shivers down his spine.
He continued this inspection, walking from one NPC to the next, complimenting and analyzing them in equal measure. Aura and Mare's elven grace, Shalltear's vampiric allure, Demiurge's diabolical elegance, and Sebas Tian's human-like demeanor - each one was more real and vibrant than the last.
As he interacted with the NPCs, a strange thought occurred to him. He was no longer interacting with mere game characters. These were beings with emotions, reactions, and an uncanny sense of life. They were no longer bound by game mechanics and scripted responses. This was an entirely new world, and he was a part of it.
However, as the reality of the situation continued to unfold, so did the weight of the unknown. A sense of dread began to build in the pit of his stomach. If the NPCs were now so lifelike, what did that mean for him? Was he still Momonga, the player, or was he now truly the demon lord?
As these thoughts spun in his mind, he found himself standing in front of the last NPC, Pandora's Actor. The doppelgänger's appearance was as flamboyant as ever, his form shifting subtly as if to remind Momonga of his ability to mimic anyone. "Your versatility is truly unparalleled, Pandora's Actor," Momonga said, trying to keep his voice steady.
As he finished his inspection, he turned back to look at the Throne Room. The sense of anticipation was even more palpable now, a silent question hanging in the air. What now? As he looked at each NPC, their faces a mix of reverence and expectancy, Momonga couldn't help but feel a pang of apprehension. He was their leader, their creator. But as he stood there, in this new and uncertain world, he felt more lost than ever.
It was then that his thoughts turned to his friends, his fellow guild members of Ainz Ooal Gown. He scanned the room, his eyes searching for the familiar avatars of his comrades, the ones who had journeyed with him through countless battles and shared so many laughs. But as his gaze swept across the room, he found only the NPCs, their eyes fixed on him with unwavering loyalty.
His heart clenched as the realization hit him. They were not here. It was just him. Him, the NPCs, and the vast tomb. His friends, those who had stood by him, who had shared this journey with him, were absent. There was no Peroroncino, no Touch Me, no Ulbert Alain Odle. All those vibrant personalities, those cherished companions... they were all gone.
He was alone.
A profound loneliness washed over him, a feeling so intense it felt like a physical blow. He staggered, his demonic form seeming to waver under the weight of this newfound solitude. The throne room, once filled with the banter and camaraderie of his friends, felt incredibly empty.
The NPCs watched him, their eyes reflecting a mix of concern and confusion. They didn't understand, couldn't understand. To them, this was their reality. They knew nothing of the game, the outside world, or the friends he had lost. To them, he was their master, their creator, their lord. But in this moment, Momonga felt less like a leader and more like a castaway, lost in a world that was both familiar and foreign at the same time.
Momonga's hand delved into the pocket of his robe, emerging with a small, intricately detailed glyph. It was the symbol of Ainz Ooal Gown, a testament to the bonds he had formed and the memories he had created within the game. Now, it was a poignant reminder of what had been lost.
His fingers traced the intricate designs of the glyph, each line and curve a testament to the camaraderie and shared dreams of the guild Ainz Ooal Gown. It was a symbol of unity, a symbol of friendship. It was a part of him, and it was part of them. But they were not here anymore.
His grip tightened around the glyph, his knuckles whitening. A single tear slipped from his eye, tracing a wet trail down his demonic face. It was a strange sight, a demon lord weeping, his tears glinting under the golden light of the Throne Room.
The NPCs watched in stunned silence as their lord, their indomitable leader, showed such raw emotion. They didn't understand the cause of his sorrow, but they felt his pain. It was as if a cloud of despair had descended upon the Throne Room, its weight pressing heavily on their shoulders.
One by one, tears welled up in their eyes. Shalltear, Cocytus, Demiurge, Sebas, Aura, Mare, Pandora's Actor... Even the normally composed Albedo was struggling to hold back her tears. They wept for their lord, their tears mirroring his own, their hearts aching with a sorrow they could not comprehend.
The Throne Room was silent, save for the soft echoes of their weeping. The once vibrant hall was now filled with an overwhelming sadness, a sense of loss that hung in the air like a tangible weight. It was a sight that would have been unimaginable in the game, but here, in this world, it was painfully real.
As Momonga wept, clutching the glyph of Ainz Ooal Gown, he felt a strange sense of catharsis. This was his grief, his loss. And it was okay to mourn, to let his tears flow. He wasn't alone in his sorrow; he had his NPCs, his loyal subjects who shared his pain even if they didn't fully understand it.
Momonga slowly rose to his feet, his gaze sweeping over the NPCs. Each of them was a testament to his guild members, a piece of a past that felt so close yet so far away. Despite the overwhelming sadness, a small smile found its way onto his face. He wasn't alone. He had them.
He approached Albedo first, her golden eyes filled with tears. As he embraced her, he could feel the tremors running through her body. "I apologize, Albedo, for letting my emotions get the better of me," he said, his voice soft.
"No need for apologies, Lord Momonga," Albedo replied, her voice choked with emotion. "Your sadness is our sadness. We share in your grief."
He moved on to Demiurge, the demon's intelligence gleaming even through his sorrow. "Demiurge," Momonga started, his voice steadier. "I apologize for my outburst. It was unbecoming."
Demiurge nodded, his usually cunning eyes filled with understanding. "Lord Momonga, your feelings are not a sign of weakness. They are a testament to your humanity."
One by one, Momonga shared these moments with his NPCs, from the stoic Sebas to the playful Aura and Mare, from the fearsome Cocytus to the eccentric Pandora's Actor. Each interaction was a balm to his wounded heart, a reminder that he was not alone in this strange new world.
As he finished his rounds, he found himself back at his throne, the glyph of Ainz Ooal Gown clutched tightly in his hand. Looking around, he saw the NPCs, their faces filled with a mix of sadness and determination. They were his companions now, his family in this world.
His gaze fell on Shalltear last. The vampire was usually lively and mischievous, but now she stood silently, her eyes filled with unshed tears. As he approached her, she looked up at him, her gaze filled with a complex mix of emotions.
"Lord Momonga," she started, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't fully understand what's happening, or why you're sad. But I...we are here for you. Always."
A comforting silence filled the room as her words echoed around them. As Momonga returned to his throne, he could feel the weight of the situation settling on his shoulders once more. Yet, he was not alone in this. He had his NPCs, their unwavering loyalty a beacon of hope in this unfamiliar reality.
With a final glance at his NPCs, their faces filled with a mix of apprehension and determination, Momonga straightened. It was time to set aside his emotions, to face this new reality head-on. He was their leader, after all. Ainz Ooal Gown may have been a thing of the past, but he was here, and he was not alone.
Turning to Demiurge, the master strategist among the guardians, he said, "Demiurge, we need to understand our current situation. Any thoughts on how we can gather information?"
Demiurge, ever the tactician, nodded. "Lord Momonga, I suggest we send shadow demons outside to investigate. They are swift, stealthy, and can easily blend with the shadows to avoid detection."
Momonga considered the suggestion, his eyes narrowing in thought. It was a sound strategy, one that minimized the risks. The shadow demons were perfectly suited for reconnaissance, capable of traversing vast distances without attracting attention.
"Very well," Momonga replied, his tone firm. "Proceed with your plan, Demiurge. But instruct the demons to avoid confrontation. We need information, not conflict."
Demiurge bowed, his face showing a glimmer of admiration. "As you command, Lord Momonga."
With Demiurge setting off to carry out his orders, Momonga turned his attention back to the other NPCs. Their eyes were fixed on him, their expressions reflecting their unwavering faith in his leadership. It was a heavy responsibility, but also a comforting one.
"Listen well, my loyal guardians," he began, his voice echoing through the throne room. "Our world has changed, and we need to adapt. We will face this unknown together, as a family. Fear not the uncertainties that lie ahead, for we have each other."
His voice echoed in the grand throne room, a beacon of strength and resolve amid the sea of uncertainty. "We have tasks at hand," Momonga continued, his gaze sweeping over his assembled guardians. "Albedo, ensure all our defenses are intact and functioning. Check the status of the traps and the magical barriers. I need to know we are secure."
Albedo, with a determined nod, acknowledged the command. "As you wish, Lord Momonga."
"Sebas, Cocytus," Momonga went on, turning to the two formidable warriors. "I want you two to check on the other residents. See if anything has changed with them, if they too have been affected by this... anomaly."
The two warriors nodded, their faces set in stern lines of concentration. "Understood, Lord Momonga," Cocytus replied, his icy voice echoing in the chamber.
"Aura, Mare," he turned to the twin dark elves, "Your beasts have keen senses. Use them. Let them roam the vicinity of the tomb, see if they pick up anything unusual."
Aura and Mare exchanged glances before nodding in unison. "Yes, Lord Momonga," they chimed together.
"Pandora's Actor," he addressed the doppelgänger, "You're familiar with the treasury. Make sure nothing is out of place, no item has been affected."
"Jawohl, mein Herr!" Pandora's Actor saluted, his usual flamboyance making a slight return.
Finally, his gaze landed on Shalltear. "Shalltear," he said, his voice softer now, "Stay with me. You are my vanguard. Your strength will be needed here."
Shalltear's eyes lit up, a sense of pride radiating from her. "I will protect you with my life, Lord Momonga."
As his loyal guardians dispersed, each filled with a renewed sense of purpose, Momonga settled back on his throne. The heavy silence of the room was punctuated only by the soft sounds of Shalltear breathing next to him. He let his eyes close, his mind whirling with thoughts and plans, fears and hopes. An hour passed in this contemplative silence, an hour of stillness in the heart of the tomb.
When he opened his eyes again, the hunger was there, gnawing at him with a persistence he could no longer ignore. It was strange, this human sensation of hunger, as strange as everything else that had happened today.
Summoning his magic, he sent a message spell to Pestonya and Lupusregina, his words echoing in the silence of the throne room. "Pestonya, Lupusregina," his voice reverberated through the magic link, "I find myself in need of sustenance. If it's not too much trouble, could you prepare a meal?"
It wasn't long before Pestonya and Lupusregina appeared at the entrance of the throne room, their faces lighting up at the sight of their Lord. "Of course, Lord Momonga!" Pestonya exclaimed, her tail wagging in excitement. "We would be honored to prepare a meal for you."
With a grateful nod, Momonga rose from his throne, his towering form casting a long shadow in the dimly lit room. His muscular frame, as imposing as Lucifer the fallen angel, was a stark contrast to his usual human form. Beside him, Shalltear fell in step, her scarlet eyes fixed on him with unwavering loyalty.
As they were led out of the throne room, the grand doors closing behind them with a soft thud, Momonga couldn't help but feel a strange mix of excitement and trepidation. He was about to experience a meal for the first time in what felt like an eternity. It was a small, mundane thing, yet in the grand scheme of their situation, it was a change as significant as any.
The fragrance of food wafting from the dining hall brought back memories of his former life. Memories of countless meals consumed in solitude, of pre-packaged foods with their tasteless uniformity, of rushed lunches consumed at his work desk. A world where food was often an afterthought, a necessity rather than an enjoyment.
His mind conjured up images of the grimy city he lived in, a jungle of concrete and steel, bereft of nature's touch. The air had been polluted, the skies perpetually overcast, the rivers murky. It had been a world devoid of the vibrant colors and the breath-taking beauty he had seen here in Nazarick. Even the most mundane corners of this world were more alive than the bustling metropolis he had once called home.
As they walked, Momonga found his gaze drawn to a nearby mirror. The reflection that stared back was unfamiliar yet fascinating. A demon lord stood there, a figure of imposing stature and undeniable presence. His skin was a deep grey, his body chiseled and muscular, his eyes a piercing crimson. The formal attire of the Guild Master draped his form perfectly, accentuating his impressive physique. He was, in every sense, a being of power and majesty.
This was him. The image was so far removed from the weary office worker he had once been that it was almost impossible to reconcile the two. The changes were more than just physical. He felt different, stronger, more confident. He felt alive.
And yet, there was a sense of melancholy. A longing for the friends he had lost, for the companionship they had shared. His reflection, for all its grandeur, was a stark reminder of his solitude. He was the only one of the Supreme Beings here in Nazarick. He was alone.
With a soft sigh, Momonga reached out with his magic, sending a message spell to the Pleiades maids. "Ladies," he began, his voice gentle and warm, "if you are not occupied with other tasks, would you be willing to join me for a meal?"
The response was immediate and enthusiastic, each maid responding with their unique blend of excitement and loyalty. Their shared joy added a soft glow to the melancholy in Momonga's heart. Despite his solitude, he was not alone. He had the NPCs, his loyal subjects who were as real to him as his friends once were.
As they proceeded towards the dining hall, an idea began to form in Momonga's mind. He recalled how HeroHero had struggled with his workload, how he had been forced to work without rest in their previous world. He wouldn't let that happen to his subjects.
Using his magic again, he sent another message, this time to all the NPCs. "From today, we will implement a rotation system for the maids. Each maid will serve me for one day, then rest the next. This will ensure that no one is overwhelmed with work, and everyone gets a fair share of rest."
The immediate wave of gratitude from the NPCs was heartwarming. It was a small change, a simple plan, but it made a world of difference to them. It was proof, once again, that their lord cared for them, that their well-being mattered to him.
As they entered the opulent dining room, Momonga couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the sight that greeted him. The long tables were adorned with a plethora of dishes, each one exquisitely prepared and brimming with tantalizing aromas. It was a feast fit for kings, a display of abundance that struck a chord deep within his soul.
His demonic eyes widened as he took in the sight of fresh, vibrant fruits and vegetables that he had not seen in years. The succulent meats, cooked to perfection, tempted his senses. It was a stark contrast to the artificial and processed foods he had been accustomed to in the past. This was real, living food, a feast that spoke of life and vitality.
But even as his mouth watered, a sense of decorum held him back. He was their lord, their master. It was only proper that he take his seat first. The maids, their eyes filled with anticipation and hunger, waited patiently for him to sit before following suit.
With a small nod of acknowledgment, Momonga settled into his seat, his gaze lingering on each of the maids as they took their places. There was a certain grace in their movements, a fluidity that spoke of their impeccable training. They were more than just servants; they were his loyal companions.
Once he was seated, a gentle hum of activity filled the air as the maids began to help themselves to the delectable offerings before them. The clinking of cutlery and the soft murmur of conversation created a comforting ambiance. Momonga watched them, his heart swelling with a mixture of gratitude and a profound sense of belonging.
As the maids enjoyed their meal alongside their lord, there was a shared understanding, an unspoken bond between them. They were not merely maids serving their master; they were a family, forged by the trials of their shared journey.
In this moment, as the feast unfolded before them, Momonga couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope. Perhaps, in this new world, they could find solace and happiness, even amidst the uncertainties that lay ahead.
But as the maids laughed and savored the delicious food, a subtle tension lingered beneath the surface. The presence of their lord, once a reassuring beacon of stability, now added a weight of responsibility. It was a fragile equilibrium, and as they shared this meal, they couldn't shake the feeling that their lives were about to change once again.
Little did they know, the future held challenges beyond their imagination. Challenges that would test their loyalty, their strength, and their very existence. But for now, they reveled in the simple pleasure of food and companionship, unaware of the storm that was brewing just beyond the horizon.