The Hermit

by Magi the Writer

The Hermit, they're the first player to create an avatar in a world called Yggdrasil. Day in and out, Hermit played this game like it was their religion. Becoming an in-game hoarder and traitor of rare and exquisite items. However, with the end approaching, The Hermit awaits the last hour with a friend. Their guild master—Momonga, the undead king.

1. CHAPTER ONE: The End

Chapter One

/ The End \

Wandering the vast halls of Nazarick. The Hermit only stared at the many walls that stood in their way.

Eyes roaming over every inch, they slowly stalked the empty hallways. Within their heart, they only felt poignancy.

Heavy thoughts that brought gloom to their mind plagued them like an illness. The boundless memories that filtered through their brain was too much.

All the good times, the bad times, the funny and the sad. Each one flashed after the next as it made their chest tighten. They struggled to contain the tears and chocked sobs that wanted to fall.

'I can't believe it's the end,' The Hermit thought. They wanted nothing more than to laugh as if this was all was some silly joke. But they couldn't find it in themselves to do such a thing.

Their small hands were clenched to tight fists full of clothing. They were crushing the long sleeves of their outfit.

'How could they just-just—' They stuttered over their own words. They couldn't get it out—they couldn't spit that awful word out.

Taking a deep breath in, The Hermit continued.

'Twelve long years—twelve years of dedication, strive and euphoria!' They yelled in their head. They just couldn't believe it—or they just didn't want too.

The soft pitter-patter of their feet was muffled by the carpet that stretched all along the corridor.

'And it all… it's all falling. Everything is just, falling.' They weakly stated.

The vastness of Nazarick never failed to leave The Hermit breathless. The wonderful architect was beyond beautiful; they really put a lot of effort in Nazarick's construction.

It was a large structure that always left The Hermit spinning from the dizziness of just attempting to recall the routs. They never could work out what was up from down, left or right in here.

That's probably why The Hermit adores the ring they wear so much. The poor thing goes through so much abuse; maybe if Hermit wasn't such a ditz, they could've learned how to work out the map.

Pausing, The Hermit stopped before a large portrait. Their pecan eyes were glued to it; nothing about the portrait really stood out. It was just an average portrait that held the painted image of a forest with trees and green grass. The frame was fancy—but nothing compared to the whole of Nazarick.

But the reason they stared was because of the familiarity the painting gave off. It reminded The Hermit of a time far back. Just when they were at a low level—when they were young and naive—well naiver than now.

It was a golden time where a great friend and themselves were playing a quick event. An event that involved paintings of all Calabar.

The group that one was in had to solve a bunch of painting-esk problems. From arranging the paintings into the correct labels that listed the styles. And then the other puzzle of placing them into the right display walls to hang. Down to making your own painting that was giving to you by raffle. And a team-work objective that had one person describing where the other should paint.

That was a grand time—even though the loot from accomplishing the event was piddle. Especially in comparison to the loot that is given now. It was still a fun time that The Hermit looks back to fondly—even if the memory holds tangy strings of resentment.

Swallowing sharply, The Hermits attention was placed onto something that had been trailing behind them.

It was a small sheep; it came to about The Hermit's knees. Fluffy blond wool and a rich brown pelt. It stared blankly up at Hermit through its thick, white lashes. Its horns were curled tightly, the golden hoofs it held shimmered under the light.

All in all, many would say, the animal looked near identical to its master.

"?" Blinking, The Hermit and the sheep engaged into a staring contest—their eyes were locked for a good time. Honey orange to pecan brown as its little tail sat still.

'Polka,' The Hermit thought—thinking its name as the animal remained in place.

The sheep—or Polka as The Hermit deemed its name to be remained motionless. Not a cry crawled out from its clamped maw.

A silent sigh fell from Hermits lips; fingers relaxing as they uncurled. Their stiff body relaxed as their shoulders sagged.

'Come here,' they ordered. Bending over, The Hermit picked the animal off from the floor. Shifting their hold on the creature.

Their thin arms were wrapped around its puffy belly. Polka's back was smooched up against their chest.

Not a single reaction came from the animal, The Hermit snuggled into their thick wool.

'You wanted to snuggle; didn't you? Naughty sheep—you could have just asked.' The Hermit thought—their words never reached the animal—despite what they wished for.

'You must be feeling low too—todays the dreadful day after all…' Hermit thought, voice drifting as their grip on the animal tightened. 'But that's okay, we'll make each other feel much better—I swear it! I already feel much better!' They lied.

But once again, The Hermit began to wonder; continuing their adventure in exploring Nazarick.

Even though Polka, the sheep they hold in their grasp isn't technically their NPC. They still like to treat it as such—it is however, considered as Hermits world class weapon… or at least one of them. But that mattered little to the sheep demon; Polka is Polka.

Polka is their closest partner—their trusted and loyal pet. An animal of their modification—and no matter who says what. Hermit will always believe it is their NPC—their living creature. One that they can talk to through their mind. From IRL to the game.

Silly, isn't it?

'Com'on. Let's go… I'll hold you forever more as we both conclude our last chapter.' They thought darkly. The flicker of the counter was ticking by as they both passed many creatures.

These creatures mostly consisted of purple bugs. They were scattered about—hiding in the rafters and the corners of the halls. Watching, waiting for intruders who wish to rob the tomb of Nazarick blind.

But no one has been able to reach the ninth floor of Nazarick—and no one will.

Whether they suffocate and sink into the icy depths of the bog. Or they are killed without mercy by the last remaining members of the guild.

Either or—no one's getting in under Momonga's watchful eye.

Swiping at their bangs, the hair automatically moved back to where it was. Hermit's round eyes were drooped. The glossy effect was pretty as Polka had automatically fallen asleep.

It wasn't in use, so why stay active when there wasn't a job to be done?

When Hermit obtained Polka—the animal wasn't an animal at all. It was just some basic boring staff that held great amounts of data. But the thing brought no joy—so Hermit forced it to become what they desired.

Utilising many priceless relics and items; just stuffing that world-class staff full with as much data as they could. The poor admins had no choice but to grant The Hermit's desires; the demon forced their hands you see.

So now, The Hermit holds a relic—the first 'living' relic that brought boundless bliss to the monster you see.

'My adorable Polka—I'll miss you greatly after today.' The Hermit thought glumly as the soft snores Polka had released were heard by the demon. A soundless sigh escaped them as the empty halls of Nazarick held a melancholic haze.

It wasn't by any aura given out by fixed data that was placed into the items that filled the space. It was just the looming clock that spelt erosion that caused the feeling to rise.

'Once, long ago these halls were bustling with players. Many low-ranked members; but now—now its empty and lifeless. Or so Momonga said long ago—isn't that right, Polka?' Hermit thought—telling a little story as they bounced the unconscious sheep. Of whom stayed asleep.

'This guild only excepts monstrosities—any human or human-like player is rejected. My character model would have been denied if not for the fact that I can change to a monstrous form at will. Which is my main player model—I just prefer this form over the other. It's cute and adorable after all!' A muted giggle came from Hermit.

They were quite lucky to have this player model and all the skills and race attributes that it has. Normally players can only hold one skill that they branch out from. But because The Hermit was the first to sign up when the game was released.

They were fortunate enough to score this trait. But it wasn't just that either—the race they are playing is the only one in the game. No one else has this player character.

As said, The Hermit was a lucky individual. And with twelve years under their belt—they've unlocked quite a bit of their skills.

Sure, they've had their fair share of misfortune—many envious players reported Hermit to the Admins. All sorts of reasons—though mostly, it was for 'cheating' can you believe it?!

But not once has Hermit been banned or placed under investigation. Those who reported them were delt with. In what way? Who knows—but that didn't mean it was all dandelions from then on.

Many PKer's tried to kill Hermits character for revenge. Or just spite—simply for existing; Hermit was fortunate in having friends to aid them when they were in need. And since joining this guild, that support has solidified the fact.

'That's why I'm here to this day—all my friends and coexisting comrades helped me. Saving me and aiding me in battle whenever spiteful players wanted to end me.' Shifting their eyes to the other side of the room, they stared at the double doors that led to a random room.

'I wonder, am I the only player left on this server?' Hermit pondered, such a though left them feeling hollow. But they were swift in dismissing such an idea.

'No way—Momonga is to be on—he said so a fortnight ago; how silly of me!' They found humour in their mistake as they continued. 'Hmm… though. Just who out of the guild has remained for the final count?' Thinking of who could it be—Hermit's eyes rolled down. Looking at the world-class weapon in their arms.

Their thick brows narrowed at the innocent animal that slumbered in their arms.

'Not many remained to begin with… most members of the guild—from those I've met, quit the guild and the game entirely throughout the fading time I've been here.' Flashes of vague player models flickered to Hermits mind.

'I haven't had the pleasure in getting acquainted with many of the old members. Of whom crafted Nazarick from the ground up—alongside Momonga.' A sadden sigh parted from them as their head rolled to stare at the other side of the hall.

'But what I do know, is that three players—of whom were a part of the originals sacrificed themselves. Their accounts were forever deleted—those players are never allowed to return. Permanently banned from the game; just so that we may make the staff of Ainz Ooal Gown. Our powerful god-tire artefact that can even rival against world-tire objects.' Hermit gushed—fangirling over the saddening tail of the creation of Ainz Ooal Gown.

'But... as for other players. They all just either drifted from the game. Life obligations clouding their mind, or they just grew bored of Yggdrasil. Either way, no one return after a time.' The Hermit pouted at the thought.

Their pecan, brown eyes narrowed into an annoyed look. The many tearful goodbyes they had to sit through. Or all those unanswered messages that they sent to hollow husks of characters.

'Twelve years is a long time; I'm just one of the rare few that stuck around from my love of the game. And now, all that I have to show for my dedication is to wait until it all goes. Poof!' They stated with flimsy glee.

Dragging Polka's slumbering form further up their chest. The Hermit stuffed their face into the floof that grew on its head.

Polka's wool is meant to smell like sweet cinnamon and mellow almonds. But because this is a game, poor Hermit couldn't enjoy the smell. No matter how hard they sniffed.

A bitter huff parted from Hermit's lips—but no sound came into the game.

'I just, I just don't understand. Why must they wipe the server? Twelve years is nothing compared to the other servers that are up and running.' Thinking about those other games just made Hermit's feeling more intense.

'Why do they get to run and this game can't? It should keep going on—it shouldn't end—it can't!' They whined as they stared up to the ceiling through their thick lashes.

The small chandeliers hanged from chains. The candles that sat within never melted away as the glow only made the purple bugs above shimmer.

'There's still so much to do—so much to explore. Even more things to collect and discover—more ruins to run through and more battles to be won…' Further ahead of Hermit, a figure stood unmoving.

They were before a set of doors as they waited. What for—who knows.

As The Hermit approached, the clearer the figure became—and it wasn't long before Hermit recognised who stood before them.

'Oh, Its Dawn—I don't remember placing her here… Maybe I had her stand there and just forgot to move her…' Hermit concluded as they recognised her as one of their many NPC's.

She was a tall Angel; standing at 5'10 as she held a slim figure.

Dawn had long, sun-blond hair that passed her tailbone as the straight strands looks soft and silky.

Her warm, pale skin seemed to hold a celestial glow to it as her snow-white wings were large. The long feathers just skimmed the floor as they were held high and folded close to her back.

A flaming crown of purity burnt from her forehead as it burnt outwards. The clothes she wore were not of my choice—they were the choice of her former creator.

It was a revealing dress that was similar to leaves of white ivy. It covered her breasts, front and back. Her flat stomach was revealed as the sides of the dress clung to her ribs. The shoulder straps barely hung onto the fabric below as they sat off from her shoulders.

The skirt to the dress was split in two down the sides. Acting like a loin cloth as the tail of the dress flared out. Slowly fading and turning translucent at the end. Her shoes matched the outfit—the tips of her toes could be seen as the top part became more visible. Stemming out like vines with varying sizes of leaves.

A pair of white gloves sat on her hands—they were normally alight with golden flames. But that only happened when Dawn entered battle mode.

Staring up at Dawn, Hermit's shorter form could only reminisce on her creator.

It was a long time ago; Dawn was originally the NPC of an old friend of theirs. Before the bridge between the two was burnt to ash—she was a gift. Hermit—even under the feeling of burning betrayal opted to keep Dawn the way she was.

Just slightly altering Dawns personality and life story—what can they say? Hermit is just a stickler for details and consistency.

Dawn had a mix between round and sharp features. Her jaw was shaped like a heart and round as their chin was small and pointed. Her lips were thin, and small; tugged into a small frown as her nose was slim and equally small. Her thin eye-brows were narrowed down into a slight glare as her eyelashes made her cold stare pop.

Dawns icy, blue eyes were laxed into a blank stare. All NPC's held blank expressions. Nothing about it really changed and sure, you can go into their profile and set regular expression changes. Or the more complicated option of creating NPC's who can change expression. Just through coding that recognises certain trigger points.

But poor Hermit wasn't an expert in that field.

'It's just too complicated—the numbers that need adjusting and then the constant switching to see if it fits.' They shivered at the memory of them trying—and failing miserably at it.

Uncurling their left arm from around Polka, they tapped the air before Dawn. A sudden panel popped up before Hermit's eyes.

It held a list of choices; Hermit began to search through the options.

: Options :

Information

Inventory

Expression

Position

Commands

'There it is' Hermit stated as they pressed the command option.

They watched as a flurry of options appeared on the small panel in a single line. Their finger had begun flicking through. The list was endless—filled with all sorts of commands; The Hermit uses the manual commands. Not the voice commands like many players use as they soon stopped.

Clicking the command follow, Dawn's body turned, placing her hands behind her back automatically. Dawn waited for Hermit to start walking; but Hermit was busy giving Dawn a once over.

A feeling of remorse fluttered through them—even though they carried resentment towards Dawns creator. They still couldn't help but question whether or not they were in the wrong…

Closing their eyes, a blurry visage of Dawns creator flickered through their mind for a second.

A sigh left their nose as Hermit took a step to the side. Turing back to face the lengthy hall; they began to stalk through.

The Angel began to trail after them, staying two steps behind as the strides Dawn took were elegant and reformed.

The grip Hermit held on Polka grew tighter as their head ducked between their shoulders. Hermit was remembering their old friend again—even when they dismissed them from their mind, a certain memory just kept coming back.

So, Hermit allowed it to play out.

It was long ago, going back years as it was the time their friend was gushing about the creation of Dawn.

They were talking about her—and the inspiration behind her story.

Dawn—or Dawn Bringer was inspired by an old item from a decrepit game called Dungeon and Dragons. Like a really, really old game.

Where people played games on table-top and with just paper. All sitting around a table for hours, only using their imagination to play and act out scenarios.

But their old friend explained the story in great detail. How—originally, Dawn was a pure spirt that was trapped into a sword of light. Being held in the Underdark—for what reason? Who knew, but being a bringer of light—they only serve those of pure heart.

And honestly speaking, Hermit didn't pay much attention to what their friend was saying. It had been so long ago, that remembering such a thing was vague.

Hermit was becoming board; as much as they loved Nazarick and all its sights. It was starting to become repetitive.

That might be why Hermit always got lost; the halls were identical, making it much harder to know where one is going.

On their screen—The Hermit could see these pop-ups. All players can see their own pop-ups; not anyone's else's.

These pop-ups were very customisable—people can change the positions they sat in, the colours, type of fonts and backgrounds they sat on. The thing is—players can't delete them nor make them fade away. They just sit there.

Well, unless you're in a cutscene for a major event; on the left, top screen was basic—just containing the information of the players.

Like your emblem that switched between your race, player banner, guild badge and skill mask. Along with ones username, HP, Mana, race and skill.

But in the top, middle of the screen was the current location that Hermit was residing in.

Great Tomb of Nazarick – 9th Floor – Grand Hallway

And to the right, top screen was the digital clock that flicker with counting numerals. It was currently 10:24pm at night—well at least for their Japanese friends. Hermit didn't live in Japan. But they played the server because the one in their country, was shut down long ago.

Though they're not upset over that fact. If anything, Hermit found that the Japanese server is much better than the one that was in their country.

Down at the bottom, left corner of the screen. Was the menu bar—it held the classic options of resume, exit, options and volume. Along with settings that held even more options within.

It also held the chat box—The Hermit always used it; they never really spoke. Not because they don't have a mic—on the contrary, they have one. They just didn't want to use it. Mostly because all their friends speak Japanese.

So, using the chat is just easier as it gets translated though the built-in translator.

Sure, there have been moments where the translation has come out wrong. But that just added to the hilarity of the moment—those moments are looked back very fondly.

Down at the corner of the screen was a map. It showed the layout of Nazarick as they walked. Acting like a guide—though it never helped Hermit. It only made them lost even more.

But displayed on the map was two pins that moved. One was a circle; coloured a light yellow as the other was an arrow. The dot was Dawn's character as the arrow that was a shade of orange, was Hermit's.

'I'm exhausted… I can feel myself falling asleep. But I can't leave now—I have to be here, until the end.' They stated as Hermit's determination flared. They can't quit just because they feel like their exhaustion was reaching new peeks.

The Hermit had to stay; they just can't leave because they're tired. That's why energy drinks and coffee was so great!

Smacking their lips, they licked them—the dry flaky skin was rough against their tongue.

A sudden squeak of a door caught The Hermit's dreary attention. They stared up to where the sound came from as they paused for a moment.

Watching as the large, double doors to one of the rooms opened.

Allowing a large figure to emerge from the room. Their wide form took strides as they walked with poise.

The Hermit immediately recognised them as they lit up in glee at the sight.

'Momonga!' They thought, the player name of their friend had them shaking with delight. Excitement was surging through their body as Hermit stared. A wide smile grew upon the demons face.

'So, he's still here! Yes!' Hermit cheered, continuing with their thoughts. 'We can spend the last of our time together in this server!' Wriggling around, Hermit began walking towards their friend and guild-master.

Momonga was a towering figure of magic and bone. He is an undead creature after all; at least in game…

His skeleton body was shrouded by his robes—the only parts revealed was his chest, hands and his face. His legs and back were concealed along with his lanky arms.

Momonga wore a lot of dark colours like purples and navy blues. His current outfit was a religious—academia robe that reached the floor. It gave out an ominous aura as the fit wasn't tight in any form. It was droopier and looser, the sleeves looked more like curtains than sleeves as he held a sort of cape.

It covered his shoulders and head—curling around his ankles and hanging from the back. Large shoulder guards protruded from his outfit. The two, large balls of ruby red sat within those plates—they were bigger than his head as joint-like appendages stuck out from the plaiting.

Golden silk was sown along the edges of the robe, around the sleeves ends. And around the top of Momonga's cape and around his hood. A sort of scarf of royal purple hanged from his neck as a golden guard sat under his chin.

Hermit has rarely ever seen him change his look… Well, other than the time he won a smooth robe of mahogany red.

Momonga wore it for a few days as a joke, just around Nazarick. Not outside our base—seeing as we're constantly—or were constantly targeted by PKer's.

But that was too good; Hermit couldn't stop laughing when they saw him in it. Even now the memory just tickles their funny bone.

All-in-all his robes make Momonga look quite intimidating, yet regal in some strange way.

The Hermit could only see Momonga from his side; the double doors slowly closed shut behind him.

'Is that—is that… !?' Hermit gaped at the staff in Momonga's bony hand. It was the staff of Ainz Ooal Gown!

It was slightly startling that the man was holding it. Even though it is Momonga's weapon—it still a shock. Normally the staff was placed on its pedestal within the conformance room.

But now, it was in his grasp!

The staff was just as tall as Momonga—only sitting a few centimetres short. The staff part was a mix of curled to jagged twists and turns of metal. The top of the staff held a goblet that contained seven snakes.

Their little heads rested over the edge, in their maws were seven different orbs. From red, light blue, dark blue, yellow, purple, green and orange.

All in all—it was a really nice staff.

'Did he finally take my advice—the advantages of carrying around a weapon! Eh, probably not…' Hermit swiftly decided. Shrugging their shoulders as they rushed to follow after Momonga.

The undead king seemed to be lost in his own head. But that didn't bother Hermit—they began to run like a child in a candy store.

'Yay! I won't be alone! I won't be here, sulking and pouting by myself!' They giggled at their childish behaviour as they reached Momonga's side.

The silent giggles that came from Hermit rung out in their room. They launched onto Momonga's hand, grasping it tightly with their left hand as a sudden red number appeared before their eyes.

-10 HP

'Oops—Momonga should be okay! He's a strong man!' Hermit swiftly ignored the writing as it faded from view.

Momonga released a startled gasp, his head snapped to face where he got hit. It was honestly funny to see this bony man snap like that.

Giving the undead king a beaming emoji, Momonga's let out a surprised gasp.

"I-wha-Hermit! You-you—I thought you were at work today!" He stated out loud absolutely baffled at Hermits sudden and unexpected appearance.

Said demon only sent a joyful emoji's back.

Momonga's glowing dots for eyes only burnt brighter as Hermit began to type away at their keyboard.

'It's good to see you again Momonga!' They sent the message as Momonga received the text. Pulling open his own chat, Hermit continued typing.

'I was honestly thinking I missed you; but I'm glad that your still on! Let's talk for a bit!' They sent another emoji to Momonga; said male was staring at the chat.

Hermit was bouncing on their feet—they've never felt so ecstatic in their life.

Said man just shook his head at Hermit's excitement. But he couldn't blame them—he too, was pretty stoked to have them here.

"Yes, it's good to see you Hermit—but what about work? Weren't you working today?" Momonga asked once again—this time more collected as Hermit let out a muted hum.

'Well, yeah—I was at work! But you know that project I was telling you about? Well, I finished it today!' Hermit beamed as they kept giggling.

Staring, Momonga would have blinked if he had eye-lids.

"… Hermit, that's… that's amazing!" He spoke, astonishment was clear in his voice as Hermit sent a bashful emoji his way.

Momonga let a chuckle slip as he shook his head.

Finding the way Hermit acted to be humorous.

"With how you explained that project a few weeks ago—it seemed you wouldn't get it done for a few more weeks!" He uttered, using a laughing emoji to express himself.

Letting go of his staff for a moment; Momonga's bony hand went towards Polka's head. Giving the sheep some head pats.

The animal held no reaction to the action. Not a peep came from the animal—nor a flinch as it continued to sleep.

Lapping up the praise, Hermit cuddled Polka closer—nodding their head.

'Well, what can I say? I went a few weeks without playing so much—just so I can get this project finished… And I just spent two, sleepless nights—I also had to call in some MAJOR favours!' Using their hand to express what they were saying. Momonga stood there. Watching and listening as his deminer started to shift.

His once happy deminer turned to a worried one real fast.

But Hermit just continued typing.

'And now—I'm logged in, and playing the final hour… I'd never miss this for the world—spending the last moment with a friend… it's important to me—I'd ditch work just to be here…' The Hermit stated; rubbing their thumb over the knuckles, their pecan eyes melted.

Staring softly as a gentle smile bloomed onto their face.

Momonga's fingers were longer than their own.

"Hermit… please don't do that—work is important; if you don't show up. I would understand—even now, if you leave to go to bed. I'd understand." Momonga spoke, his voice was soft and filled with worry. Even though his player model couldn't express himself. Hermit understood what emotion he was conveying through the game.

"I'd hate for you to get burn-out just because of me and a game. You need rest—it's important—so if you need to go, just go." His bony hand squeezed Hermit's; but said demon only puffed their cheeks.

Hermit used an emoji to convey their annoyance at Momonga.

'That's cute coming from you—mister undead king. Don't think I haven't notice how messy your schedule is. All the times you've stayed up-and the work you've pushed back.' Narrowing their brows, Momonga chuckled awkwardly after reading what Hermit sent.

'And let's not forget—all the meals you've skipped just to continue playing.' Sending the message, they hit a huffing emoji as they continued. 'But, either way. If I DID get fired—I'd just find a new job. It's that simple.' Hermit shrugged.

Their free hand slipped from Momonga's as they began clicking a few panels. Selecting a few things as Hermit suddenly began to grow.

"What? Hermit, finding a job isn't easy—it's really difficult nowadays!" Momonga scolded as Hermit played a rolling eye emoji. "Don't roll your eyes at me; how are you going to support yourself if you got fired?" Momonga continued, asking how Hermit will support themselves as he stared down at them.

'Well, I'd use my savings to stay afloat for a while. Up till I can find a job.' Hermit bluntly wrote; a smile grew onto their face. Not like Momonga could see it.

'It's cute that Momonga worries so much.' Hermit thought as Momonga played a shocked emoji at their response.

"Hermit… please tell me you won't do that." He pleaded; Hermit shook their head.

'Momonga, I've been playing this game for twelve years now. It's become more than just a game to me, I've poured more than what people normally would—even you've done the same. We both—we both gave this game our all.' Hermit sent, writing from the heart as Momonga read over the text.

Taking Momonga's hand back into theirs, Hermit suddenly yanked him with them. The Skeleton stumbled at the sudden action—his right hand grabbed the staff. The two then began to wonder down the hall.

'I've spent hours wondering the world of Yggdrasil—collecting many things.'Eyes drifting to the floor, Hermit continued. 'All the items that are within the game—and I still have things to gather. But you—you have been making a name for yourself with your friends.' Lifting their head, The Hermit peered up towards Momonga.

'You built Nazarick—you've done so many amazing things.' Hermit gushed—their attention moved to look down the hall. Both were wondering in a random direction. Momonga had to regulate his walking speed just to keep pace with Hermit.

The growing demon was too fast sometimes for the undead king.

'It was long ago—before I joined; but it means a lot to me now. Nazarick has become a home for me—a place where I feel like I belong… And I have you here too!' Giving his hand a squeeze; they both ignored the red writing that appeared before the screen.

-10 Hit Points

'When I say we are going down together—I mean it Momonga. So don't try and waste your time trying to convince me otherwise. After all—if I left, you'd be sitting in that big throne of yours—pouting and huffing. Though that'd be funny to think about!' Hermit spoke, they now reached about Momonga's elbow.

The text sent held dramatic flair as The Hermit squeezed Polka into a crushing hug. But the animal didn't flinch, not even a twitch in their eyelid, Momonga's hollow eyes stared at Hermit's growing form.

It was pretty normal for the Undead—seeing his underling and friend growing between sizes.

The Hermit's body was filling in the right places. Hermit snuggled their face into Momonga's sleeve. Their free hand continued writing on the keyboard.

'And either way, I won't be sleeping well tonight. Six cans of Energy drinks and an ungodly amount of coffee. It a good combination if you want to break the record of days without sleep!' Hermit hit the laughing emoji as Momonga replied with his own horrified one.

"Hermit, that cannot be good for anyone," he stated as he continued. A laughing emoji followed swiftly after. "I'd know, pulling benders like that myself." They both laughed joyfully as Hermit adjusted the hold on the sheep.

"… I'm glad that you're here Hermit—really, it makes me feel happy that at least someone is here with me." He uttered as Hermit blinked.

'Well, even if I decided to sleep—you would've sent me a DM, begging me to log on and play with you. Like all those other times!" The Hermit stated, huffing a laugh at the message she sent.

"What can I say—I just like having your around; your good company." He expressed as he gave Hermit's player model hand a squeeze.

A sudden Zero HP appeared before them—they both continued down the hallway.

"So, how was work?" He asked, his gleaming dots flickered down to face them. Starting a new conversation with Hermit as they shrugged their shoulders.

'Well, it wasn't too bad—I just walked in this morning and stared working on the project.' Hermit typed—swiftly continuing with a new message.

'It took a long time, lots of calls and emails. But I was able to finish it by five.' The two walked hand-in-hand down the long halls. The infinite twists and turns that stood before them didn't worry them.

Both just enjoyed the other company as they wondered.

'But I had to deal with Eliza/Ellie… God, I just hate working with her—all she does is whine and whine. She tried to get ME to do her work after I finished my quota. Can you believe that?' Hermit wrote, annoyance was clear in the text.

Just the memory alone had The Hermit fuming.

"Ah, I see—I don't think they're working tomorrow… Are they?" Momonga asked—trying to remember all the times Hermit has complained about this certain worker.

'Hm, normally—yes, but it being close to ester. She's switched rosters with a co-worker. And now is working ester—with me.' Using an annoyed emoji, their eyes narrowed.

"Oh—wait, she was the one who stole your lunch too—right?" The Undead King recalled—swiftly remembering that fact as Hermit grumbled.

'Yeah, she stole my food from the fridge.' Looking away in annoyance, Momonga sighed.

"Well, at least that is over." Momonga stated, his left hand slipped from Hermits—wrapping around their shoulder.

'No—it wasn't! HR wouldn't do anything about it! The only reason why she stopped was because I started adding sardines into my food.' Shivering, The Hermit used a disgusted emoji.

"…Ah—that's… well, sardines aren't that bad—" Momonga awkwardly spoke; Hermit's head snapped so fast to look up at the skeleton—he sputtered at the glare.

'Sardines are GROSS!' Using a disgusted emoji; Momonga chuckled as he shook his head.

"Well—at least you had a break from work." Momonga's thin fingers squeezed their shoulder. He was still trying to see the positive to lighten Hermits mood. But the sheep demon didn't type for a moment.

'Well, when I said I finished my quota early… I had to skip my break…' Hermit reluctantly typed, sending the message as Momonga stared at the words for a second.

Using an emoji, it was a blissful laugh as The Hermit tried to ease the tension that was forming between the two.

Momonga released an irritated sigh at the news as he shook his head.

"Hermit, you need your breaks—otherwise, you're going to get burnout!" He scolded; Hermit just walked along with him. Staying quiet as they silently whinnied at the scolding they were receiving.

"And, with skipping your sleep so recklessly too… I'm worried about you." Momonga drifted off, his voice going soft as he pulled Hermit closer.

'I'm sorry—oh great undead king of Nazarick! Please, please—oh your majesty—forgive my prudent actions I have taken. Great undead king!' Hermit wrote—laughing at the words they sent to Momonga all in jest.

Still trying to make the situation less dismal between them both.

But before anyone of them knew it, they both were chuckling about it as they walked.

Coming to some stairs, the two of them stopped before them.

"Hermit, if you think I'm letting you off the hook, you're dead wrong." He stated as he sent a smiling emoji their way.

Leaning back slightly, Hermit sent their own shocked one.

"Common, let's go—" Momonga began to pull Hermit with him as they walked down the stars. At this point Hermit had stopped growing; they stood just under Momonga's

Their adult form was a masterpiece by design; cures and dips in all the right places, their curled horns had changed direction. Facing outwards rather than inwards.

The Hermits player model had long wisps of platinum blond hair with golden hints—thick yet floofy like strands of twine.

Their legs had shifted to take on a more lamb-like appearance.

Curly puffs of golden wool covered their skin like whirling clouds; black hoofs Clopped against the carpet softly.

'Sssssooooo, did anyone else from the guild log on, or are we the only ones here?' The Hermit asked, wanting to talk about something else. Rather convinced that, if they get Momonga distracted enough, he'll surely forget about their transgressions.

Said skeleton just looked away—lowering his head as he spoke.

"Yeah, HeroHero was on a short while ago—but he left…" Momonga drifted off, continuing down the stairs as Hermit blinked.

Surprised at this new revelation; Hermit gawked up at the undead king.

'Huh? No way! Aw—I missed him!?' Hermit sent—swiftly following it up. 'Why didn't you tell me! I haven't seen HeroHero in a while—I think it was a few years ago…' They finished, typing as Momonga only shook his bony head.

"I didn't know you were on—if I did, I'd have told you; I would have even tried to convince HeroHero to stay a little longer…" Momonga stated as his beady red eyes stared at Hermits adult form.

Said sheep demon pouted; thick brows narrowed as they sent a half-assed glare. Their plump lips were pulled down as Momonga shook his head.

"And either way, he wasn't going to stay for long… he wasn't feeling it—so he left." Momonga spoke, his tone was obviously showing how he felt.

He was bitter.

It was obvious in the way he spoke; his character may just be bones and magic. But his voice, it revealed all—for the demon to know.

"… But, Hermit—if you need too—you can step out, log off from the game. You don't have an obligation to stay here… If you need too, you can leave, it'll be okay." Momonga spoke, shifting to a gentler tone. Once again trying to push Hermit into quitting; this only made The Hermit offended more than anything else.

They just went over this!

'How can he think like that?' Hermit thought to themselves. 'Does he think so low of me—hmf, how ridiculous.' Hermit continued to rave in their head. Huffing at the insult that was thrown into their face.

'Momonga, I'm FINE! I'm staying—regardless of my health, I want to be here—I want to be beside you, this game. It's more than just a game to me—even if it makes me sound so silly. It's an escape for me…' Hermit wrote, their grip on Momonga's bony hand only tightened as they stared at the descending stairs.

'Whether you like it or not—we're going out together. So, I'm sorry Momonga, but you're dealing with me for the last hour or so.' They stated with captaincy. 'My undead king we're together till the end.' Staring daggers up at Momonga, Hermit showed their obvious vexation at the man.

"Ah—Hermit, um… no need to be upset!" Momonga stumbled over his words. Trying to calm the puffing and huffing sheep demon. "I-I'm just—just concern for you… I don't… I don't want you to be tired for tomorrow… You do have work, right?" Momonga asked, his tone was wavering with uncertainty.

Hitting an annoyed emoji with vigorous fury, Hermit continued to stare harshly into the Skeletons eyes.

'Yeah, I have work—so what?' They stated, less like a question as they continued. 'And I can ask the same towards you—guild master, don't YOU have work in the morning?' Wrapping their arm back round the sheep. Momonga only stared for a moment; he released his hand from their shoulder.

Stepping away from the sheep demon, Momonga tried to ease the building tension that was cracking between the two.

"Uh, fair point—just… let's stop fighting… Okay." Momonga uttered, not wanting to fuel the sparking flame to an argument.

It was quite between the two for a short while—Hermit was thinking.

'If you didn't want to get into an argument—don't start one.' They huffed, piercing their lips, they sent a single message.

'Fine' Momonga sighed in relief, his stiff bones going lax—which would have been funny. If not for Hermit's sour mood.

However, it wasn't until the two of them had reached the bottom of the stairs. Hermit's narrowed eyes had landed onto the servants—or the NPC's.

They were all lined up—one behind the other as they were station at the end of level nine. And the entrance of level ten—the moment the two came into view, the NPC's programming whizzed to life. Bowing slightly at their arrival.

'If I'm remembering correctly—these are the Pleiades and their leader—Sebas Tian… The Servants of the tenth floor.' Hermit thought.

'Hey, Momonga.' The Guild master turned to look at their companion. 'These are the Pleiades—right? So, they're like the last-line defence for Nazarick?' Hermit sent, watching as Momonga turned his head slightly to read the new massage they sent. The past bubbles had moved up—and the older ones even shifted out from sight.

"Yes Hermit—you are correct. But they were never used as no one could even reach this level… Sure, some reached level six—but they were delt with swiftly." Momonga uttered, explaining the answer as Hermit slipped out a muted hum.

Not a sound escaped into the game as Momonga's gaze flickered to the servants. Observing each one—his character may look menacing, but in the real world—this mans a sweet-heart… not that The Hermit ever had the chance to visit—much less interact.

'Hm, I see…' Hermit sent—continuing swiftly. 'They just sit there though… I wonder—if they were alive, would they enjoy it?' Hermit questioned—this was meant to be more to themselves, but what the hell—why not hold more conversations conveying the idiotic side of themselves to a friend.

Just what can go wrong?

"… Uh, well…" Momonga drifted off, his glowing dots drifted to The Hermit. Their once narrowed eyes had softened quite a bit—just staring at the Pleiades in wonder.

There was a moment of silence—not a ping from the chat, nor a pip from the microphone. Both stood there frozen and in a sort of daze.

'Probably not… I mean—if I was an NPC told to stand in this spot, I'd get bored… maybe that's why I bring my NPC's along once in a while. Sure, it's pretty silly—especially thinking like that, but it makes me feel better…' Hermit's message was received by Momonga, the man was snapped from his staring contest with Hermit. Said demon looked back towards him.

Their character blinked as a smirk spread across their face.

'Whatcha stair'in at? Hm~' They typed, making their character flutter their lashes as Momonga took a step back.

"Your ugly face," Momonga spoke. Not a second of hesitation as the Hermit gasped.

Covering his toothy mouth, Momonga shook his head as he chuckled.

"What? It's truee~" Momonga jested, rather enjoying this back and forth. The teasing that occurred between them was much better than the previous conversation.

Hermit allowed a bellow of a laugh to flow forth. But not a peep came from her character, they remained tight-lipped and quite as a mouse.

An awkward silence lingered between the two. Momonga shifted on his feet; he was starting to feel awkward.

"A-anyways!" Momonga cleared his throat—deciding that Hermits silences was a negative. He was trying to change the subject. "L-Lets move them around—for old times' sake…" Momonga slowly mumbled—if his character had skin—he'd be a paled mess by now.

Hermit only shook their head as they now looked on in a perplex state.

'Wait, you can move other NPC's that aren't your own? Is that even possible?' Hermit question—honestly surprised that Momonga could do such a thing.

Momonga could help but let a sigh of relief out. Their surprise was honestly funny to them.

"You know, it's cute when you know nothing about the game—you've played it longer than me!" Momonga teased—rather enjoying the sweet, succulent taste of being the jester. Normally Hermit was the jester; oh, how the tables have turned.

Hermit pouted as they shoved Momonga softly—though the poor skeleton had stumbled at the force of the push.

'Watch it old man, I know things even you don't know.' Hermit couldn't help but smirk at the way Momonga was swift in sending an emoji.

"I'm not THAT old Hermit!" Momonga cursed at The Hermit—said demon was now the one lapping up the reaction.

'Hm, I'm more than certain being in your forties is considered, by many. To be the end of one's youth.' Hermit tilted their head, rather enjoying their teasing as Momonga sent an enraged emoji.

"I'm only in the early—EARLY okay—I'm not that old!" Momonga yelled, the comment obviously hit something.

'So, are you going to answer my question?' The Hermit wrote, but Momonga wasn't having it.

"I'm not answering any of your questions." He huffed; Hermit only shook their head as they placed the slumbering Polka onto the floor. The ever so gentle action awoken the sheep immediately.

Taking the free hand of Momonga, Hermit's other hand rose to Momonga's face. Their fingers tracing the sharp jaw of his model. They couldn't feel anything on their real fingers—but who cares.

Momonga's little beads stared down at them, Hermit could only image how his face would look like.

Perching onto their tippy-toes, Hermit rose a few inches higher. Nose brushing against the undead's, elongated, pointed chin. Hermit's pecan eyes stared up into his.

Momonga remained silent, Hermit just liked the image of Momonga—struggling to keep quiet.

Giving a tight-lipped smile to the skeleton, they dropped to their flat feet. Hands dropping to their side as they took a few steps away. Spinning on their feet, they placed their hands behind their back.

'Momonga, my dearest friend—I only jest; I don't care for age… well, at least those who are older than myself.' Using the back of their hand, they shook their shoulders as they followed up with another.

'So, do tell me—how can you control the NPC's? This is something I was unaware of.' Hermit typed, said undead only sighed in defeat.

"Yes, I can do it—though, I can't control your NPC's Hermit." Momonga stated.

This only heightened Hermit's interest.

'Really, why not?' Hermit asked, tilting their head back. Fluttering their eyes at him as he shook his head.

"Follow me," Momonga ordered; but the NPC's stood still, only bowing down to Momonga. "Well, to answer your question, Hermit. I can order the NPC's around because the previous members had registered them into the guild." His eyes remained on the back of Hermit—both had begun to walk as the servants followed after.

Lagging behind as Momonga pipped up.

"You can still log in your NPC's if you wished." Humming—Hermit tilted their head, looking forwards as they lulled over the idea.

Dawn and Polka was following after The Hermit—staying behind them, but not to fair away. The NPC's of the Pleiades were following after Momonga, all in some sort of conga line.

Said Skeleton's eyes wondered over to Dawn's back.

"You're bringing your NPC along too?" Momonga asked, his eyes flickered back to Hermit's as he remained staring.

Nodding their head, Hermit turned around—walking backwards as they typed.

'Yeah—but how do I register my NPC's to the guild—I want them to be in the guild too!' Selecting a smiling emoji, Momonga spoke.

"Well, you know how you sent your application?" Momonga asked as Hermit vigorously nodded their head.

"You just have to click our guild emblem, then go into options, under link-up. Select NPC's and enter their ID code into the box. After that—it's just a matter of conformation." Momonga explained as he flashed his own smiling emoji.

Hermit was already halfway; entering the enlisting sight as Momonga shook his head.

"I see your already on it," He chuckled, Momonga really couldn't see what they were doing. But he knew that they were filling the enlisting form.

Silence had fallen over the two; Hermit was already started filling the ID boxes with the NPC's ID codes. Watching as each time the confirmation box appeared, they confirmed them before continuing on.

Hermit's entire body was buzzing with excitement—their fingers worked swiftly to fill the forms.

'There! It's all done! I just have to wait until they get excepted!' Hermit thought to themselves, practically gushing at the idea. They felt like that were being thrown onto cloud nine as they took strides.

Their crinkled undereye only narrowed from the growing smile. Watching like a hawk as Momonga used his finger to open his menu bar.

Flicking through his notifications, he suddenly pipped up.

"Hm, just give me a second. And I'll except them all when they come in." He stated.

Spinning around, The Hermit faced the front once again.

'Yay—who knew I could do that!' Continuing with their blubbery attitude, The Hermit followed with their thoughts. 'Though, it's also embarrassing that I didn't know that feature existed… I've been playing this game for twelve years…' Hermit pouted, their mood dampened a little.

But they tried not to allow such a fact to ruin their day.

With a skip in their step, Momonga was busy waiting for the notice as they both walked down the hall.

Eyes wondering about, Hermit stared at the paintings on the wall. They ranged from large portraits, to small landscapes that were protected by frames. Each image held all sorts of imagery.

Looking down to the floor, they were made from smooth stone. The pillars that held the ceiling up were made from marble. Armour lined the sides of the hallway—acting like decoration.

'You must be wondering why Dawns with me… Well, I'm bringing Dawn along because she was made by a… an old… companion of mine. I just want Dawn with me…' Hermit drifted off, sending the message before they decided to delete it.

Momonga stared up from his panel, a hum of acknowledgement rumbled from his mic.

"I see… But just so you know Hermit—all your NPC's have been accepted into the guild. You should see the confirmation soon." That was all that Momonga could utter in that moment.

Feeling their mood rise, Hermit fist-bumped with a hop.

'Yes!' They cheered.

With a shake of Momonga's head, he sent a smiling emoji as Hermit flashed him a smile.

'Yay! Now it's like I'm settling even more into the guild—what's next? We're going to become lovers?!' Hermit quipped; finding some form of amusement at the unlikely thought. But they wouldn't mind.

Momonga's eyes lingered on Hermit's back—who knows what this man was thinking. It's no secret between Momonga and Hermit. Momonga knew that this 'companion' of theirs was once a close friend of The Hermit.

But the details of what transpired between the sheep demon and that player was unknown to him.

So, he never pried.

Once again, the silence had creeped back—but it was a different kind of silence. Not an awkward one, nor a tension filled one, this one was strange.

It was obvious to Hermits that their undead friend had something plaguing their mind.

Turing back around, they walked once again, backwards as they typed into the chat.

'Hey, come on. Momonga—whatever is making you feel all upsetty-spaghetti; just let it go. Live in this moment—focus on the here and now… cay, it's already a sombre day. So, let's not make it a wake?' Hermit stated, reluctant to send that message as they thought a moment.

Said monster just let out a sigh as he shook his head.

"Hermit, how can you be so happy?" He asked—he just couldn't get it.

How can this person stand before him—whose played this game since the beginning be so. So, happy while it all comes crumbling down?

'What do you mean?' Hermit blinked, tilting their head to the side. Momonga continued.

"You—you've played for longer, yet your happy? Energetic—I'm not sure how to say it." He uttered; his tone was taking a turn. "I know you like exploring, and collecting trinkets and objects… so much—I have to say, its impressive. Yet you're not upset about losing it all." Momonga stated, it was obvious he was getting furious as Hermit sighed.

'Honestly, I'm not happy about this. In fact—I hate this, all of this.' Swallowing, Hermit faced the front. 'I want to scream and cry—but I'm tired… I don't want it to end, I want to continue playing. I still want to explore this vast land.' Staring at their hands, Hermit clenched their fingers. They were angry—sad, and frustrated but they just couldn't do anything.

'It's just…' after sending that message, they couldn't send another. It was too much—they wanted to talk—just once to Momonga. With their real voice, but how can they? It wasn't the right time.

And that is really ridiculous, the clock is ticking.

"I—Hermit… I'm, sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you." Momonga apologised, his tone was ambiguous as he continued. "It's—no, never mind." He swiftly dismissed.

And there was the familiar silence the two knew. Awkward stillness as it wasn't long until they both reached the tall doors. These doors led off to the throne room—located in the tenth floor.

Both stood there for a second. Hermit was busying themselves admired the carving that were ingrained into the metal.

One door—on the left held a goldy looking figure, grapevines ran around the god as a head garment acted like pretty decoration. But as for the door on the right, it held an evil demon. Surrounded in flame and holding a pitch fork within hand; both facing in the same direction.

Hermit was quickly brought back to the present when the doors slowly parted towards them. Opening on their own, a drawn-out squeak parted from the hinges. The blue light from the other room leaked through. The widening crack was reviling more and more of the inside as a large, grand hall stood before them.

Hermit stood like an idiot, gawking at the grand room that was reviled. Large tapestries lined the long hall—memorializing the past. Hanging from poles that were screwed into the marble pillars.

Dangling chandlers hanged from black chains, inside were thin, blue fabric that held a gentle glow. The light was a soft, deep blue as the midnight light shimmered through the glass dome above. But the stary skies above were all fake—magic was the cause of the illusion.

After all, we're positioned in a poisonous bog—the mist that surrounded Nazarick clouded the sky.

Between the thick pillars of marble were oval overhangs that sat above the ground floor. It was meant to be representing nobles… if this wasn't a hollow throne room. With only monsters to occupied the halls—it might have made a nice picture or something.

The long stretch of red carpet led all the way down the throne room. Obviously acting like a pathway for the guild master who would walk down the stretched-out rug.

Momonga took Hermit's hand in his. Pulling the demon along this time; the foot falls were muffled as this place was magnificent. The Hermit could never get use to its beauty.

However, Hermit's already dampen mood only became soaked, the sad realisation of it all hit them.

They're never going to be able to see this ever again. This will be the last time Hermit will ever marvel at the sight.

The Hermit's round, pecan eyes wondered the hall—taking all that there was in. Their eyes than landed onto another NPC, this NPC stood next to the throne. A few feet away as Hermit's gaze locked onto their idle form.

'Albedo' They thought—instantly recognising the creature.

She—if Hermit was remembering correctly, they were a demon who protects the tenth floor. Or at least that's what they believed; the 5'7 guardian had her gloved fingers laced together and held in front of her lap.

Her long, jet-black hair reached just below her knees. The straight strands looked like silk.

Her pure, raven wings sat just above her tailbone. The dress she wore was pure white, gold trimmings lined the edges as her skirt that held wide layers of ruffles; clung to her legs.

Her hips were revealed by two holes within her dress as it showed some of her thighs as well. The shoulder straps to her dress sat off on the sides of her shoulders, hanging loosely.

A thick, white chocker was moulded around her neck, covering the hole thing. Golden lining was sown into the edges as the pair of white horns that grew from her head was pointed forwards. The small smile on her lips was empty of true happiness as her droopy eyes stared off into nothing.

Both Momonga and Hermit walked the carpet—approaching closer to the throne as they arrived at the steps.

Momonga paused; however, The Hermit did not. Their hand slipped from Momonga's as the sheep demon raced the steps to the throne. Momonga didn't mind the action as he turned. Looking towards the servants who stopped behind him.

A moment of silence rained.

"The command was, Stand by—right?" Momonga questioned. Trying to remember—but it seemed to be correct, the servants all simultaneity bowed at the command.

"Guess so…" Momonga mumbled under his breath, watching as the servants turned around to the left. Each of them walked off to the side simultaneously. All except Dawn and Polka; both of them had followed The Hermit.

Of whom was in the middle of having Dawn standing to the opposite of Albedo.

'There—picture perfect! Now it looks like their peering down a mirror… Well, not really. But it's kinda cool to think of—two opposites staring at the other. An angel of purity and a demon of seduction!' Hermit thought, silently chuckling at the thought of these two giving death glares across the room.

Silently throwing insults at the other as they remained in their positions—unmoving.

Though, that would never happen—it's just a game after all. The NPC's react when the players want them to.

Just like puppets…

Momonga soon followed after Hermit. Walking up the few steps, he approached the throne. Ignoring Hermit as they bent over, picking Polka from the floor—and back into their arms.

A groan came from Momonga as he plopped down onto the throne.

'Heheh—are your bones creaking?' Hermit texted, following it up with a devious grin. Momonga looked towards Hermit's player model after reading what they sent.

"No, and I swear Hermit—if you say another age joke, I'll make sure you'll regret it." Momonga stated bluntly—annoyance was clear as day in his tone. And if more evidence needs to be accounted for—the irritated emoji he played only made the demon chuckle.

But if they were being honest—they were just trying to distract themselves. The sombre thoughts that came forth from their mind; but they can't help but wonder. What would the NPC's be like if they were real people—alive and free. To make their own decisions—how would they react with one another?

"Hermit, Hermit." Momonga called; said monster turned their attention to look at their seated friend.

Squeezing Polka's waist, The Hermit tilted their head.

'Yeah?' They sent a message, their fingers moved; asking what their guild master wanted. All that Momonga did was beckon them with his slim finger.

Watching the way his finger moved, The Hermit thought to themselves.

'Is he trying to seduce me?' Such a thought was made all in jest; silent huffs of amusement left them. But none-the-less, Hermit swiftly joined his side.

Right next to the throne; if hermit had it their way, they'd have been sitting on the armrest. But the games coding wouldn't allow it; such things are considered inappropriate.

Hermit's gaze blurred slightly as they stared off at the vast room.

Slowly rolling towards the other demon who was in the room. The NPC's eyes were focused on Momonga's seated form.

'You know…' Hermit typed. Gaining Momonga's attention as they continued.

'The one thing I wished they'd add to this game is the ability to sit on the armrests.' Hermit then followed it up with the usage of a sighing emoji; Momonga stared.

"Really?" He asked. Surprised that, that was the one thing Hermit would be wishing for in this game.

From the time he has gotten to know The Hermit, they only cared about one thing. And that thing was items, that's it.

It was the one thing they did—other than help him with the protection and up keep of the guild. They only went around collecting and trading things.

Momonga knows that Hermit spent hours just going around Yggdrasil—collecting all sorts of useless trinkets. All the way to powerfully rare items—those, they had to trade for sometimes. But, Momonga's pretty sure they've collected hundreds—if not, thousands of items from their twelve years of dedication.

But honesty—he's never seen Hermits collection; they've never allowed anyone to see it. Not even their closets friends—Hermit says it's a precaution. But, after a few years, Momonga can say for certain, the two have grown closer.

'Yeah, like—I have to stand over here—like a plebian and you get to sit on a pretty chair. See where the problem lies?' Using their free hand to emphasise what they meant. Momonga chuckled at that.

"You can always sit on the stairs you know—or the floor; I'm pretty sure I've seen you mount Polka once." He covered his mouth as he snorted back chortles.

The Hermit used a shocked emoji, then following it up with a disgusted one.

'Oh, how DARE you, Mr. Bones—I'll have you know—my bottom has no business being placed on such a place!' Hermit wrote, it was more than obvious between the two that it was just playful banter.

'The floor has no right to bear my booty—and the stairs? Do I look like a joke to you—mister king of the undead?' Moving their hand, they placed the back of it to cover their forehead.

'And I only mount my dear Polka in great times of battle—to ride in the fight, and slaughter those who dare oppose me.' They dramatically wrote as Hermit's pecan eyes rolled to stare into Momonga's pin-like ones.

And before they both knew it; they were howling with laughter. One out loud and into the game and the other in muted silence.

"Well, if the floor isn't to your high standers—how about my lap?" He asked, using his free hand to pass over his lap like it was some special place.

Though, both knew such things were off limits—thanks to the game's limits.

Hermit only used a scoffing emoji at his gesture.

'Nah, your made from bone—my ass would probably break if I sat on you!' Hermit sent the message, Momonga read it over as he laughed at that.

"You'll never know Hermit; it could feel like cloud nine sitting here." He spoke; if Momonga's character had eyebrows, Hermit likes the thought that he'd wiggle them.

Covering their lips, The Hermit stifled the empty chortles that never sounded out. Their round eyes couldn't help but flicker up at the timer.

They felt their heart shiver at the sight before them.

'The end is almost here,' and just like that. Their mood dropped; sometimes they wondered if they have bipolar with how fast they switch.

Gaze locking to the floor—it was astounding how it seemed to be so intriguing. They couldn't—or more like wouldn't tear their gaze away from it.

A frown bloomed its way to their face, pulling at their lips as the Hermit wasn't ready to let go.

They weren't ready to say goodbye. And yet, time wasn't waiting for them. It was waiting for no one as it just kept lugging along.

'Why can't it just stop—time; I want to stay here with Momonga, just a little longer.' They thought. Even though they value their items more than anything. They've found to enjoy Momonga as much as they love exploring.

Bitterness was swelling inside their chest; Momonga noticed the shift in Hermit's mood. But before he could say anything about it. Hermit lifted their head, sending Momonga a thumbs up as they began typing away at another message.

'However, if I did have to sit on anyones lap—I wouldn't mind sitting in Urmilla's lap!' Hermit stated brightly; just thinking about their thighs had Hermit beaming.

Momonga stared at The Hermits vibrant form—most likely confused for a mear moment.

"That's… One of your NPC's, aren't they?" He asked. His tone reveiled just how unsure he was of his own question. Doubt was the thing that made him feel as if he was mistaken. The Name, Urmilla was familiar to the undead.

But the way Hermit vigorously nodded their head had him breathe a sigh of relief.

'Yep! I'm quite proud of her if I must say so! Her design came out—chief kiss, perfect!' Snuggling up to Polka, Hermit shook their upper chest.

Momonga shook his head at Hermit's child-like behaviour.

But he had to admit—many of Hermit's characters (Minus Dawn) looked pretty good… from the only other NPC he got a peek at.

"Hey, Hermit." Momonga called their name.

Turing their gaze towards their friend, Hermit placed their attention onto Momonga once again.

It was shocking just how much this demon's attention span was. It was kind of piddle if their both going to be honest.

Hermit watched as Momonga lifted his finger to opened a character screen. Granted, Hermit couldn't see what he was doing.

The only thing other players can see when looking at another player. Was their gaming tag, HP, banner and level. That's it, if you wanted more information like race, and skills they hold—you need to appraise them.

Which isn't as easy as it sounds.

"I'm going through Albedo's settings," Momonga spoke. This gained their attention.

'He's—he's going through her setting? Aw, I wish I could see!' Hermit used a pouting emoji as they leaned over Momonga's arm. Watching his finger tap at nothing as the adult form of Hermit began typing.

'So, what are you looking at exactly?' They asked, wanted to know as Momonga selected something on the invisible screen.

"I'm looking through her character information," He answered, Hermit's eyes practically glowed at the revelation.

'Wait, you can do that?' Hermit was astonished, but swiftly realised how silly they sounded as they speedily typed another message. 'Wait, yes you can. You moved the Pleiades with a command.'

"…Not exactly," Momonga stated. Swiftly following it up with an explanation. "I can move the other around because they are a part of the guild. And as the guild master, I have the access to do so. But I can't change or edit the information or items that the NPC's are wearing." Momonga finished as he continued going over Albedo's information.

'Oh, that makes sense then—so if you wanted, you can also now control my NPC's too then?' Hermit questioned as it was silent again. Momonga was thinking to himself quietly, leaving poor Hermit in the dark.

'Hey, what are you doing, don't ignore me—I have more questions to ask.' Hermit whined, not liking being left out as they huffed.

'How are you getting into Albedo's information if you don't own the character?' Hermit sent the message, but Momonga just ignored it. Seemingly flicking through the panel as Hermit wiggled back and forth.

'Hey, come on, at least tell me what you're doing!' Stomping their foot, their sheep ears would have flickered in annoyance as Momonga finally spoke.

"I'm just looking through Albedo's information. And for your answer, I'm using the staff." To prove his point, he gave the staff in his hand a shake as Hermit's eyes wondered to it. The Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown.

'Wait—the staff can really bypass the uh—what do you call it?' Hermit narrowed their thick brows. Trying to think what the word for it was. But they were coming up blank.

"Well, I mean—this staff is a god-class weapon. So, it really can do that—remember how many of the god-tier and world-class weapons changed whole functions in the game?" Momonga pointed out.

'Yeah—but still, that's kind of OP for a God-ranked weapon—don't you think?' Hermit asked, but was once again ignored by her dear companion.

"God Tabula is a stickler for settings. It's like a hole novel was written here!" Momonga stated out loud.

Hermit could just vaguely imagen an image of Momonga's IRL's body rolling his eyes.

Chuckling at the thought. Hermit began to pull up the panel for all their NPC's.

'Tabula—they were one of the first, weren't they?' Hermit asked, switching between typing and opening character files. Their interest was piqued—anything about the guildmembers before themselves always had Hermits attention.

"… Yes—and my god; why would Tabula even write that?" Momonga gasped, shocked at whatever he read as it only heightened hermit's attention.

Looking away from their own panel, Hermit swiftly typed into the chat.

'Write what? Come on, what did they write—tell me all the dirty details~' You could practically hear the whine coming from the text as Momonga all but ignored Hermit.

His gaze flickered between the screen and Albedo as he suddenly lurched forwards. His head was facing his lap in defeat as a disappointed sigh left him.

Poor Hermit looked about to explode.

'Come on man—just tell me! I'm dying over here. How can you just leave me out.' Hermit just huffed as they glared at Momonga.

'Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me!' Hermit spammed the chat. Not writing anything else as Momonga shook his head.

"Enough, Hermit—you're going to be on a soft ban from chat if you keep spamming like that." Momonga vaguely threaten as Hermit leaned back. Feeling quite taken aback.

'That's cruel—you ignore me and when I try to gain your attention. You threaten me? You make me want to cry from your cruelty.' Hermit replied back as they decided it would be enough horsing around.
Momonga stared at the staff suddenly.

'Why is he staring at the staff?' Hermit couldn't help but question as they tilted their head. 'Are they getting board of me—and are now thinking of killing me?' Hermit thought; just being silly as they watched as Momonga lifted his staff. Moving it towards where Hermit assumed his screen was.

'Ah—wait, what are you doing Momonga?' Hermit asked as their eyes bored into what he was doing.

"Changing something," he spoke. Swiftly typing into the box after some lacking consideration. His free hand moved to cup his bony face.

'Eh, why are you covering your face—oh-ho-ho~ did you write something frisky?' Hermit asked, using the biting lip emoji as they got right into Momonga's face.

The poor male seemed to have blown a gasket as he stumbled over his words.

"Huh—wa-no! Nothing like-like that! I-I just changed something in there. No-nothing else!" Snapping his head away; his response only made Hermit even more interested.

'Oh really, sure seems like you added a lil' extra spice into there. Common' tell me—I won't tell a soul, promise. So come on spill it!' Silently giggling at his reaction, Hermit leaned over the throne.

All the playfulness in the air ran dry as something else began to bloom.

'You know, I'm just playing around… I don't have much right in pulling your leg… but anyways. What now? The end is swiftly approaching because were having fun.' Hermit sighed.

"Ah, your right…" Momonga drifted off as he stared at his own timer.

The seconds ticked by as Momonga remained silent—contemplating something as Hermit blinked.

"But, what the hell." He suddenly stated, he began typing something else into Albedo's information. It was swift, quick and short as his beady eyes drifted to Albedo's.

Waving his hand across his invisible screen, he shut it off. His bony hand moved to cover the front of his face soon after. It was strange to see him do such a thing; it made hermit giggle.

Rubbing his non-existing nose only made it worse for the poor Demon.

By now, they had decided that Momonga earned his personal space back. Snuggling into the sheep by mushing their cheek into the top of its head. hermit's round eyes drooped to look half-lidded.

"Bow down," Momonga suddenly commanded, everyone in the room—except for Hermit and Polka obeyed.

Each NPC took a knee, their hands were placed over their hearts, head facing the floor as Momonga's gaze turned to face forwards.

A sadden sigh left the undead as he slouched into his throne.

The air changed around them once again. Hermit felt small in this moment—their form began to deflate to their original size.

It seems the end is nigh…

Their fingers flowed across the keyboard, typing away. But they paused before they sent it. Their pecan eyes flickered over to stare at Momonga.

They could tell he was feeling it too—the melancholy that hung within the air. But it was different from theirs.

His bony finger that was adorn by jewellery suddenly lifted. Pointing at each banner that hung within the royal throne room.

Hermit swiftly understood what was happening.

Their eyes followed to each banner Momonga pointed at. It was all his former comrades—the ones who helped assemble not only the guild. But Nazarick and all the treasures that laid inside it.

Hermit never really joined any guild before this one. They were a drifter amongst the players in Yggdrasil. Just doing what they please without affiliation—it was why no one really knew who they were. Only those who were in the first few years into the game knew them.

But that swiftly faded as the old quit and the new came pouring in… Well, until no more players joined the server.

Momonga dropped his hand, allowing it to rest on the armrest of the throne.

"Hermit," Momonga suddenly called—his voice had startled the poor sheep demon who was ogling at the banners.

Holding their finger down, they quickly erased the text that filled their message. Typing a new word in, their eyes snapped to the undead king.

'Yeah?' Hermit wrote after composing themselves from the surprise.

"I—I know this is sudden, but I think. I—no. I believe you deserve to be added to the ranks…" Momonga spoke, stuttering slightly as Hermit could only gawk at what Momonga had said.

'What? No—Momonga, that's—you don't have to do that.' The poor demons heart was all over the place. Their mind was somewhere else on Pluto as they couldn't gather the words that wanted to type.

"No, this is. This is my choice, Hermit." He stated as his beady, red eyes looked towards Hermits player.

"Throughout the time you joined the guild, you've been helping me nonstop. You work diligently, day in and out—additively more so than me…" He drifted off, scratching the side of his cheek bone.

"You've done everything you can to protect Nazarick from crumbling. And throughout the years, you stayed. I know we've had arguments in the past that have left us feeling a little bitter. But you always return, we always apologise and made up. You've been nothing but a good friend to me, and a comrade that I'm proud to have worked with." His voice held so much sincerity to it—it was hard for The Hermit to believe it.

"So, I… you deserve to have your own banner amongst the others." He concluded, waving the staff of Ainz Ooal Gown. Hermit just stood there in shock, staring at the banner that suddenly sprung out from one of the empty pillars.

Their emblem was burnt into the fabric as no words could escape Hermit. Their brain just couldn't tell their fingers what to type.

They just stared blankly at their banner.

'I've—I became an overlord of Nazarick?!' Hermit gushed—they were honestly stupefied at the sudden change.

Their hands, they were shaking as Momonga pipped up.

"Urg, I have to wake up at four," He groaned. But his words weren't reaching Hermit.

'…But, why?' They questioned, slowly punching the letters in. 'Sure, I helped out now and again... I even joined the guild; mostly for the fun of it…' They vaguely remembered all the times their application was denied. The amounts of rejection from all the guild they applied for was staggering.

'But nothing I did is—was—no, is noteworthy, other players have done more than me. Given more than I have.' Hermit began to pick up the pace in their typing. Sending messages through the chat as Momonga sighed.

"Hermit… just—why are you questioning it?" He asked, his voice was dripping with exhaustion as Hermit wrapped their arms tightly around Polka.

'Because, it—it just doesn't make sense!' The demon exclaimed as they sent a small glare towards the skeleton.

Momonga made an inform decision to ignore her message.

"I better crash after the server shuts down—I don't want to be a zombie at work." He stated with a chuckle.

Hermit tiled their head as they pushed their neck forwards.

'Dude, why are you ignoring my question—I don't mean to sound rude, but—this. It's too much, I don't deserve it.' Hermit continued. Feeling more and more annoyed with Momonga—the undead asshole was ignoring their messages.

"You better get some rest too Hermit. Staying up for two days like that isn't good for you." Momonga directed his next words right to the huffy demon.

They could swear their shock was thawing—turning to animosity for the man as they stomped their foot.

'Yeah, sure. I'll go to bed after this alright—I'll be breaking your avatars bones in my sleep. I hate it when you perposly ignore me you know.' Rushing their reply, Hermits eyes continued to glare daggers as the guildmaster who just shrugged his shoudlers.

Hermits pecan eyes landed onto the counter.

The end was close. So, so close. Hermit, could feel their real body moving on its own.

'Oh—oh shit; should I even do it?' They wondered. Pausing as their finger that hovered over the button on their head gear.

'Maybe not—I never spoken to Momonga through the mic ever.' They swallowed the anxiety that tingled through their body. 'And either way—the way he's acting now, I'm debating if he should get to hear my voice.' They thought.

'But this is my only chance… What if he hates my voice, thinks it's to child-like?' Hermit could feel their soul trying to flee from their body.

'No, it won't matter in the end… we probably will never see each other anyways. The chances are too low—really low…' Their finger pushed the unmute button anyways. They were still trying to assure themselves that it wouldn't matter in the long run.

Eyes racing to the timer, a squeak of panic zipped itself through Hermit. Only five second remained before the server was wiped.

'I-I have to say something.' They panicked as their entire body shot up, stiffing like a plank. 'I have to—just anything!' Gaze zooming towards Momonga's sagging bones, they opened their mouth. At first, nothing came out. Their heart was pounding in their chest.

Expanding and compressing, the blood that flowed through them was shooting about in their veins.

"M-Momonga," They spoke. Their voice shook as they swiftly continued. "I-I wanted to say, thank you. For-for everything… I-you opened your guild for me… And you became one of my close's friends… and—and I-I just wanted. I wanted to say—" they struggled their feminine voice rung out through the halls.

Momonga's beady red eyes stared at Hermits form.

"Thank you for all that you have done—it means more than I can ever describe… and I hope. The next time we met in a game. We should swap contacts so we can grab some cake and talk!" They sent Momonga an emoji of a smile, swiftly continuing before the last second stroke.

"I just-I just wanted to tell you that, my name real name is (YN)!"

And the timer hit zero.

…

…

And the clock continued to tick past its final number.