Disclaimer

I do not own any part of the Overlord franchise, including its characters, settings, or story elements. All rights to Overlord belong to its original creators and publishers. The only things I claim ownership of are my original thoughts, ideas, and my own personal character, Arlen, created within this narrative.

Veil of Shadows, Crimson Affection

Chapter 1:

Shalltear Meets Adventurer

The forest was thick and foreboding, filled with towering trees and dark shadows that seemed to watch every step of the young adventurer. Only 15, Arlen was determined to make his mark on the world, armed with a simple sword and a determination that made up for his lack of experience. His talent, though still unknown to him, lay not in his raw strength but in his uncanny ability to absorb and learn magic—a gift he assumed was the result of pure dedication. Today, he was determined to cross the forest and reach the village beyond, following stories of monsters lurking among the ancient woods.

Deep into his journey, the sun setting behind the thick canopy, Arlen stumbled upon a clearing. There, standing at its center, was a girl, seemingly around his age, with silver hair that shone in the dim light, as if capturing the last golden rays of the sun. Her clothes seemed different—elegant and slightly out of place in the rough terrain. She turned, her crimson eyes locking onto his. For a moment, Arlen felt like time had stopped. She was beautiful, ethereal, and completely out of place in this darkened forest.

"Hey, are you lost?" Arlen called out, concern lacing his voice as he stepped forward, his sword still at his side. The girl turned fully towards him, her lips curving into a smile, her eyes studying him with curiosity.

"Me? No, not lost. Just… wandering." Shalltear Bloodfallen replied, her voice soft and melodic. She tilted her head, her gaze assessing. It had been centuries since someone had looked at her like that—no fear, no worship, no hunger. He simply saw her as a girl. It amused her, intrigued her. He didn't seem to realize who, or rather what, she truly was.

"I'm Arlen," he introduced himself, stepping closer, his expression open and genuine. "You shouldn't be out here alone, it's dangerous." He gave her a lopsided grin, "Lucky for you, I'm a pretty capable swordsman." Shalltear chuckled at his declaration, finding his earnestness both endearing and refreshing.

"Oh, is that so? Perhaps I should stay close to you, then?" she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She could sense his aura—untapped potential, raw magic that he hadn't even begun to understand. There was something there, something that could grow if nurtured. The thought intrigued her, and perhaps, she mused, she could indulge herself a little longer in the role of a simple girl.

As they walked through the forest, Shalltear subtly tested his skills. She would point out unusual plants and signs of magical creatures, watching with amusement as Arlen earnestly tried to understand, his dedication evident as he absorbed her words. He had no idea that the pretty girl guiding him knew more about this darkened forest than anyone else could dream.

One evening, as they made camp under the stars, Arlen attempted a spell he had seen a mage use long ago. His brow furrowed as he muttered the incantation, his hands moving in an attempt to shape the energy. A tiny spark of magic fizzled in his palm before vanishing. Shalltear watched, her curiosity piqued. He had seen the spell once, and already there were hints of success. Most would have failed even to conjure a spark.

"You're really dedicated, aren't you?" she murmured, her voice almost tender. Arlen looked up at her, a little embarrassed but smiling.

"I just want to get stronger. I don't have the natural talent, so I have to work for it," he said, shrugging. Shalltear smiled to herself—how oblivious he was. His talent was extraordinary, but he still saw himself as just an ordinary boy. She decided not to tell him, at least not yet. It was more fun this way, watching him struggle, watching him grow.

Days turned into weeks, and their journey continued. Shalltear kept her abilities hidden, enjoying the novelty of being just a girl named Shalltear, someone who didn't wield immense power or have ancient responsibilities. She would watch as Arlen faced dangers—wolves, rogue bandits, even the occasional magical creature—and every time, she stayed in the background, subtly ensuring his safety while allowing him to think he was the hero.

Arlen's talent started to manifest in ways that even he couldn't quite understand. Whenever he witnessed magic, particularly elemental spells like fire, lightning, or ice, he found himself instinctively incorporating those effects into his swordplay. The fire spell he had witnessed in a town once had somehow allowed him to perform a "Fire Slash," his sword blazing momentarily with a fiery edge. A lightning spell became "Lightning Strike," crackling along the blade as he swung. Each time he practiced, he grew a little better, a little more in control, even though he thought of it as simply his dedication. Shalltear, however, knew better—she could see that he was absorbing the magic, internalizing it in a way most humans could not.

But the higher-level spells were still far beyond him. When they came across a mage casting a more advanced fire spell, Arlen could barely understand the intricacies of the magic, let alone try to replicate it. It frustrated him, but Shalltear found it amusing and somewhat endearing. She knew that true growth took time, and she enjoyed the challenge of guiding him, nudging him to keep pushing his limits.

Slowly, Arlen began to realize that there was something different about Shalltear. She never seemed scared, not even when they were surrounded by danger. She had an uncanny knack for knowing where to go, what to avoid, and her eyes—those crimson eyes—sometimes held a depth far beyond her apparent age. Yet, he never questioned her. She was his friend, his companion, and the one who believed in him even when he doubted himself.

And Shalltear, for her part, found herself genuinely enjoying his company. It had been eons since she had felt this way—since she had allowed herself to care, even a little, for someone so mortal, so fragile. She found herself guiding him not just for her amusement, but because she wanted to see him succeed. She wanted to see how far this young adventurer could go, how much he could grow under her subtle guidance.

Shalltear knew that eventually, she would have to inform Ainz about Arlen. It was her duty, and she was nothing if not loyal to her master. But she also wanted to keep this experience to herself, at least for a little longer. She could imagine Ainz being intrigued by Arlen's unique potential, perhaps even seeing value in nurturing such a loyal ally from the start—much like how he had embraced Tuare into Nazarick. Forced loyalty was one thing, but genuine devotion was far more valuable.

She would have to frame it carefully. If she brought Arlen to Ainz's attention, it would be on her terms. She would emphasize her control over the situation, her ability to guide Arlen and nurture his growth. Ainz might appreciate the subtlety, the potential of having another devoted ally whose skills could be moulded from an early stage. If Ainz allowed it, perhaps Demiurge or Albedo could display some of their magic, "accidentally," allowing Arlen to witness and learn—incorporating it into his own growing repertoire of magic sword forms.

One day, as they sat by a fire, Arlen turned to her, his eyes filled with determination. "Shalltear, one day, I'm going to protect you properly. I'll become strong enough that you won't have to be scared of anything, ever."

Shalltear smiled, a genuine, warm smile that reached her eyes. "I'll look forward to that day, Arlen," she replied, her voice soft. "But until then, promise me you'll keep trying, no matter how hard it gets."

He nodded, his expression serious. "I promise."

And as the fire crackled and the stars shone above, Shalltear knew that this boy, this determined young adventurer, had somehow managed to carve out a place in her ancient, undead heart. She would protect him, guide him, and watch him grow—all while keeping her true nature hidden, at least for now. Because for once in her long existence, Shalltear Bloodfallen found herself wanting something more than power or blood. She wanted to see where this journey with Arlen would lead.

The sun rose slowly over the horizon, casting a golden glow over the forest clearing where Arlen and Shalltear had set up camp. Arlen woke early, stretching his muscles, his eyes glancing over to Shalltear, who was still curled up under her cloak. Despite her presence, he couldn't quite get used to how serene and vulnerable she appeared in those early morning hours. It was so different from her usual confident demeanour.

He took a deep breath and moved a few paces away from their camp, unsheathing his sword. His morning routine had become a ritual—practice, repetition, focus. He concentrated on the techniques Shalltear had taught him, refining his footwork and his control. He could still remember the first time he had managed to perform the "Fire Slash," the blade igniting for the briefest of moments, the heat coursing through the steel. Today, he wanted to do it again, but better.

As he swung the blade, his mind focused on the fire spell he had seen in a distant town. The heat gathered in his chest, and with a sharp exhale, he let it flow through his arm, into the blade. This time, the flames danced longer along the edge before flickering out. He smiled to himself—a small victory, but a victory, nonetheless.

Behind him, Shalltear stirred, her crimson eyes watching silently. She could feel the raw magic in his movements, the way he was slowly learning to harness and mold it. It wasn't perfect, but it was progress. She rose gracefully, her cloak slipping off her shoulders as she approached him.

"You're getting better," she remarked, her voice soft but with a hint of approval. Arlen turned to her, his smile widening as he nodded.

"Yeah, I can feel it coming together. I think... I think I just need more practice." His voice carried an eagerness, a determination that Shalltear found increasingly endearing.

"Perhaps," she said, stepping closer, her eyes examining his stance. "But it's not just about repetition, Arlen. You need to understand the nature of the magic. Feel it. You must know when to let it flow and when to control it." She reached out, her slender fingers resting on his wrist, guiding his arm through a smoother arc. "Like this. Feel how the energy moves within you, how it channels into the blade."

Arlen closed his eyes, focusing on her touch, on her words. He could feel the faint pulse of her magic, her energy entwining with his own, showing him the way. He swallowed, nodding as he tried again, his sword blazing for a longer moment this time before the flames dissipated.

"See?" Shalltear smiled, her eyes meeting his. "It's not just brute strength or simple practice. It's about harmony. Magic is like a dance—it needs rhythm, flow."

Arlen nodded, absorbing her words. He had always believed that his success was due to his sheer will and dedication. But with Shalltear, he was beginning to understand that magic required more. It was about connection, about letting go of the rigidity and learning to move with the energy that flowed within him.

Their training continued through the morning. Shalltear would sometimes demonstrate a move—subtle and graceful—and then watch as Arlen tried to replicate it, often stumbling but always trying again. It was these little moments, the simplicity of his dedication, that made Shalltear want to nurture him further. She enjoyed watching his progress, enjoyed the thought that she was the one guiding him.

Later that day, they found themselves on the outskirts of a small village. Shalltear, cloaked to conceal her distinct features, led Arlen through the bustling streets. They were on the lookout for any potential sources of low-level magic—wandering mages, alchemists, or even simple street performers who might have something to teach Arlen. They found a small gathering near the village square, where a mage was entertaining children with simple elemental spells—small bursts of fire, streams of water swirling in the air, leaves being manipulated by gusts of wind.

Arlen watched closely, his eyes wide as he observed each spell, his mind already analysing, absorbing the possibilities. Shalltear stayed by his side, her eyes half-closed, but her senses alert. She knew that Arlen was taking in every detail, and she could see that spark of excitement, that desire to learn more. She allowed herself a small smile—this was why she stayed, why she took interest in this boy who saw her as nothing more than a companion.

As she watched Arlen's face light up with curiosity and determination, Shalltear found herself wondering if this was what Ainz felt towards his subjects. A deep sense of pride in their growth, a desire to see them succeed, to nurture them into something more. It was a strange feeling for her, one that she hadn't expected. She had always served Ainz with absolute loyalty, but now, she was beginning to understand why he treated the denizens of Nazarick the way he did. There was a power in nurturing devotion, in watching someone flourish under your guidance. It made her realize that perhaps this connection, this bond, was something far more powerful than any magic or force she had wielded before.

"Look at the way he moves his hands," Shalltear whispered to Arlen, leaning closer. "He's directing the energy through gestures, but it's more than that. It's about focus, about intent. You don't need to copy him exactly—find your own way to channel that intent into your sword." Her voice was gentle, a teacher's guidance, and Arlen listened, his attention unwavering.

That night, back at their camp, Arlen tried to replicate what he had seen. He swung his sword in a steady arc, focusing on the memory of the wind spell the mage had used. He could feel it—a lightness, a breeze gathering around the blade, though it was still weak. Shalltear watched, her eyes glowing softly in the darkness, and when she saw the faint ripple of air trailing his blade, she nodded.

"You're getting there," she said, her voice filled with pride that she did not try to hide. "One step at a time, Arlen. Just remember—it's not about becoming the strongest overnight. It's about understanding, learning, and growing."

Arlen looked at her, his face flushed from the effort, but his eyes shone with determination. "I will, Shalltear. I promise I'll get stronger, so that one day, I can protect you."

Shalltear smiled, a genuine warmth in her eyes. "I believe in you," she said simply. And as the wind whispered through the trees, she knew that this journey was only just beginning—that Arlen still had much to learn, and she would be there every step of the way, guiding him, protecting him, and perhaps, just perhaps, allowing herself to care for him more than she ever thought she would.

The following morning, Shalltear and Arlen left the village behind, continuing their journey along a narrow woodland path that twisted and turned through the forest. The early sunlight filtered through the leaves, painting patterns on the ground as they walked. Arlen felt invigorated, his head filled with thoughts of his training and the simple elemental spells he had seen the previous day. Shalltear could see the excitement in his eyes and couldn't help but feel a twinge of something she was slowly recognizing—pride.

Their path eventually led them to an open glade, where the forest gave way to a wide meadow. It seemed peaceful enough, but Shalltear's keen senses detected something amiss. Her crimson eyes narrowed, and her hand instinctively moved to pull her cloak tighter, concealing herself as her gaze swept the clearing.

"Stay alert, Arlen," she murmured, her voice low and controlled. Arlen looked at her in surprise but followed her lead, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He trusted Shalltear implicitly by now, knowing that if she sensed danger, it was best to be prepared.

The sound of rustling leaves echoed from the edge of the meadow, followed by a low growl. Arlen's eyes widened as he spotted the source—a group of demi-humans stepping out from the trees, their eyes fixed on the pair with a mixture of curiosity and malice. Their leader, a large creature covered in bristling fur and with a cruel glint in his eyes, stepped forward, brandishing a wicked-looking axe.

"Well, well," the leader rumbled, his gaze moving between Arlen and Shalltear, lingering on Shalltear with clear intent. "What do we have here? Travelers, all alone? You must be lost."

Arlen drew his sword, stepping protectively in front of Shalltear. His heart pounded, but he held his ground. He knew Shalltear could handle herself, but the instinct to protect her ran deep, especially now that he had vowed to grow stronger for her sake.

The demi-human leader sneered, clearly amused by the young adventurer's defiance. "Look at this boy," he said, glancing back at his companions. "He thinks he can protect her." The other demi-humans laughed, their guttural voices echoing across the clearing.

Shalltear, her face impassive, watched quietly from behind Arlen. She felt no fear—only a cold calculation as she assessed the situation. She could take out these attackers without a second thought, but this was also an opportunity for Arlen. He needed to learn to fight against more dangerous foes. She would step in if things got out of hand, but for now, she wanted to see what Arlen could do.

Arlen took a deep breath, focusing on the movements Shalltear had taught him. He could feel the tension in the air, the fear, but he pushed it aside. This was a chance to prove himself, not just to Shalltear but to himself as well.

The first demi-human lunged at him, a large club swinging through the air. Arlen sidestepped, his movements more fluid than before, and countered with a swift strike of his sword. He focused, remembering the fire spell he had seen. His blade ignited for a brief moment, a fiery slash catching the demi-human off guard and sending him sprawling back with a howl of pain.

Shalltear watched, her eyes narrowed in concentration. She could see Arlen's progress, the way he was applying what he had learned, but she could also see his limitations. His use of magic was still rudimentary, each spell requiring a great deal of effort, and there was still a lack of finesse in his movements.

The demi-human leader snarled, seeing one of his own fall. He rushed forward, swinging his axe with brutal force. Arlen barely managed to block the blow, his arms straining against the strength of his opponent. He gritted his teeth, his eyes locking with the demi-human cruel gaze. He needed more—he needed to use more of what he had learned.

"Remember," Shalltear's voice cut through the chaos, calm and commanding. "It's not just strength. Find the rhythm. Let it flow."

Arlen closed his eyes for a split second, listening to her voice. He could feel the energy within him, the memory of the spells he had seen. He moved his sword in a wide arc, his focus shifting to the wind spell. He let the energy flow, a breeze gathering around the blade, and then he struck. The wind-enhanced slash hit the demi-human leader, pushing him back, surprising him with its force.

But Arlen was not yet done. He took another deep breath, feeling the fire magic spark in his chest once again. He struck with a "Fire Slash," the blade blazing as it connected, driving the leader back further. The demi-human stumbled, his eyes wide with surprise.

Shalltear's lips curved into a small smile. He was learning. Slowly, but surely, he was learning.

The remaining demi-humans, seeing their leader falter, hesitated, their confidence clearly shaken. Arlen took a step forward, his sword raised, his stance steady. He could feel the exhaustion creeping in, but he pushed it aside. He had promised Shalltear that he would grow stronger, that he would protect her.

"Leave," Arlen said, his voice steady despite the tremor of fatigue. "Leave now, or face the same fate."

The demi-human leader, panting and clearly injured, glared at Arlen before grunting and signalling to his companions. They retreated slowly, disappearing back into the forest, their growls fading into the distance.

Arlen let out a long breath, his sword lowering as he turned back to Shalltear. She stepped forward, her expression softer than before, her eyes meeting his with something akin to admiration.

"You did well," she said simply, her voice gentle. She moved closer, her hand resting on his shoulder. "But remember, Arlen, it's not just about power. It's about control. You need to refine your magic, to understand it fully."

Arlen nodded, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. "I know. I just... I need more practice."

Shalltear smiled, a warmth in her eyes that was rare for her. "And you will get it. You're learning, and that's what matters." She paused, her gaze drifting to the spot where the demi-humans had vanished. "One day, you'll be strong enough that you won't need me to step in. But until then, I'll be here."

Arlen looked at her, his eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Shalltear. For everything."

She shook her head slightly, a small smile playing on her lips. "Don't thank me yet. We still have a long journey ahead." But even as she spoke, she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in Arlen's progress. Perhaps, just perhaps, this was what Ainz felt when he looked at his subjects—a desire to see them grow, to become something greater. It was a realization that made her feel strangely content.

As they left the meadow behind, the sun climbing higher in the sky, Shalltear knew that this was only the beginning. Arlen still had much to learn, but she would be there, every step of the way, guiding him, protecting him, and watching as he grew stronger—not just for her sake, but for his own.