Chapter 1: A Wish for Adventure
A shower of fireworks lit up the sky—it was a beautiful scene, but sadly, only one player was there to witness it.
Momonga sighed.
It was the final day of YGGDRASIL, and he had prepared a grand farewell party to commemorate all the years spent in that game with his companions.
Unfortunately, no one showed up.
"Should I have stopped HeroHero-san before he logged off?..."
No, that would've been selfish of him. Everyone needs rest, and at least HeroHero-san had logged in to say goodbye, despite his busy schedule.
23:56:13
23:56:14
23:56:15
He sighed.
The end was drawing near, and Momonga grew increasingly melancholic. He turned to look at the entrance of Nazarick, his greatest treasure and his home.
He quickly shook his head, realizing his mistake.
"Time is running out. This virtual world will come to an end, and I'll return to my normal life."
It was obvious. People can't live in a virtual world forever—sooner or later, everyone has to leave.
'Tomorrow I have to wake up at 4 a.m. I need to go to sleep as soon as the servers shut down so it doesn't affect my job.'
Today, the unconquerable guild of Ainz Ooal Gown would vanish, and only the memories of his friends would remain in his heart.
23:57:00
Just minutes before the shutdown, a thought crossed Momonga's mind.
He looked at his skeletal hand, adorned with five gleaming rings that would make any player drool—especially one that shimmered with an unreal glow under the night sky.
Some time ago, that very finger bore one of the most expensive and hardest-to-obtain rings in all of YGGDRASIL; the 'Shooting Star' ring. It allowed the user to cast the Super-Tier spell 'Wish Upon a Star' three times without consuming any experience.
But now, it wore a ring shaped like a dragon devouring its own tail. It was the Uroboros itself—one of the twenty World Items that broke the game. Its power allowed the wearer to request anything from the GMs, as long as it fell within the game's rules.
While exploring one of Alfheim's many dungeons, he had the fortune of encountering the leader of a rival guild who had once used the ring's power to block his own guild from gaining access to a massive crystal mine.
The battle had been tough, but in the end, Momonga emerged victorious, claiming the almighty ring.
"Should I make a wish?... After all, it's the last day," he wondered as he examined the ring closely.
Without a doubt, if he had obtained the Uroboros ring alongside his comrades, he would've been hesitant to use it. But since he had acquired it purely by chance, the idea of making a request didn't seem so far-fetched.
The Overlord raised his arm, as if trying to crush the moon above the world.
He activated the ring.
The sound of explosions faded, and the ring's power blossomed, summoning a flurry of runes that danced around him, waiting to hear the wish that would alter the very core of the world.
"I, leader of Ainz Ooal Gown, wish... for one last grand adventure for my beloved guild!" The heartfelt wish echoed through the ring, which shone brighter than any star.
Momonga stared in disbelief. He knew full well that unlike some of the other twenty World Items, Uroboros didn't always vanish after being used. Though the chances were slim, the Overlord watched as the ring remained intact on his finger, not dissolving into particles—and the joy that filled him was immense.
23:58:39
After what felt like an eternity, the radiant glow faded.
At that moment, a notification appeared before Momonga.
[Congratulations, you have unlocked the mythical guild quest 'End of All Worlds']
[The last of the Creators is awakening from his slumber. The nine worlds cry out for their savior.]
[Requirements]
[Defeat the Devourer of the Nine Worlds (true form) / Not completed]
[Defeat the Last Creator (unique boss) / Summoning conditions not met]
[You have acquired the World-Class title: 'Last Hope of the World'.]
[Congratulations! You have reached Level 101 / You have gained one World Skill Slot.]
Momonga was left speechless as the notifications came to an end.
In truth, Momonga had wished for one last great adventurewithhis friends, but the GMs had misinterpreted his words and granted him a mythical quest never seen before, along with a new class that allowed him to surpass the level cap.
"Well... even if I had been more specific with my wish, I seriously doubt they would've granted it anyway."
Momonga didn't even bother to check his new quest or stats. Why waste his time?
If he had received this quest back when the guild was still in its prime, it would have been like a dream come true. No one even knew Mythical quests existed—the highest known tier had been Legendary, which could literally shake the foundations of the nine worlds and, in certain cases, trigger the appearance of a World Enemy.
Let alone the 'Creator'—unique bosses were usually far stronger than their standard forms, and Momonga didn't even want to imagine how powerful a world-class boss labeled as unique could be.
Even if he were curious enough... he simply didn't have the time to find out.
23:59:50
He closed his eyes, awaiting the inevitable end—one that would mark the close of a cherished chapter in his life, a chapter he would treasure forever.
23:59:56...
23:59:57...
23:59:58...
23:59:59...
00:00:00...
00:00:01...
...
Deep within the dungeon, a wave of negative energy surged like a tsunami, sweeping through one of the final floors— ever reached.
Showing no signs of stopping, this energy rose upward, killing everything it touched, leaving behind only chaos and destruction.
Legendary monsters, long dormant in their slumber, were engulfed by the malevolent essence—an energy that defied all that was good in the world.
The lesser black dragons, bred solely for war, possessed formidable bodies clad in scales capable of deflecting nearly any attack, along with magical power that rivaled even the mightiest sorcerers of the ancient age.
As guardians born to defend the dungeon, they charged furiously at this foreign force. But their efforts were in vain—their bodies were drained of all vitality.
Once, they were beasts powerful enough to battle legendary heroes, guardians only surpassed by the Four Kings who had long since left the Great Mother. Now, all that remained of them were unrecognizable pools of bloody pulp.
The deaths were countless. Their bodies flickered like tiny sparks of life, desperately trying to resist an unstoppable tide of pure horror.
As souls bound to the Great Mother, they were destined to be reborn again and again for all eternity. But something was wrong...
The dungeon trembled as it sensed something being stolen—something that was rightfully its own by divine decree. The precious souls of its children were being devoured by this corruption, leaving nothing behind.
Fortunately, the dark energy began to slow... until it came to a complete stop after covering the span of several floors. Otherwise, all of its creations might have been lost.
At the center of one of those floors, a being appeared—one that did not belong to this world. A skeleton clad in dark robes embroidered with gold and adorned with the finest jewels, holding a staff that could only be described as divine... no, even that word fell short. It was something beyond.
But even that paled in comparison to the ring encircling his finger and the amalgam of crystallized despair nestled within his core. Their auras were so primordial, so ancient, that even the Great Mother's own consciousness shrank before them.
The dungeon had existed for ages. Within its domain, it had witnessed heroes, spirits, fairies—even despicable gods. But never had it encountered a being so overwhelming.
There was only one word to describe it: Supreme...
Even so, it would never forgive one who dared to so brazenly steal what was hers. Enraged, the dungeon summoned its greatest champion. From the walls, slowly, two massive skeletal figures emerged. It was the ultimate executioner—the fearsome Juggernaut.
As the earth quaked under the Juggernaut's arrival, something shifted within the foreign entity. Where its eyes should have been, two crimson flames ignited.
He raised one bony arm toward the Juggernaut and—
"Vermilion Nova"
...
In the explored floors, all at once, adventurers dropped to their knees, yellowish puddles forming beneath them. Only the most seasoned—those who had honed their wills through countless battles and walked the edge of death—managed to stay on their feet. But even these veteran warriors broke into a cold sweat.
Fear!— A dark, ominous premonition gripped them, as if the shadows themselves were writhing and closing in around them.
Tremor!— The entire dungeon quaked, massive cracks split the walls, and the crystals that lit the corridors dimmed as monsters screamed in madness.
In desperation, the monsters bolted toward the upper floors as if their lives depended on it. Normally, such reckless movement would be swiftly suppressed by the adventurers, to prevent powerful creatures from running into young, inexperienced explorers.
But this time... they didn't stop them.
Some of the adventurers who still retained their senses and could move lifted their comrades and joined the stampede. Others abandoned their brothers-in-arms, valuing their own lives above all else.
The unfortunate ones—those who couldn't stand and had no one to help them—were trampled beneath the frenzied beasts. Not out of malice; it was completely unintentional. In that moment, the monsters couldn't care less. All they knew was that they had to flee—regardless of whether an adventurer or even their own kin stood in the way.
...
The trembling of the dungeon was felt even on the surface, and the Tower of Babel—raised by the gods themselves—swayed from side to side. But that wasn't what shook the world to its core...
It was supposed to be midday. The sky had been clear, with the final cold winds of winter giving way to the long-awaited spring.
But why had the sky suddenly turned a deep, burning orange? Why was the moon eclipsing the sun in the middle of the day? And why did a colossal rift in the heavens cast forth an eye—an eye that radiated sheer contempt for everything beneath its gaze?
The world had come to a halt. The sounds of celebration and the heavy steps of adventurers faded to a whisper.
Children were clutched tightly in their parents' arms as tears streamed down their faces. Under such crushing pressure, their young minds couldn't even scream in fear. Their tears were the only way their bodies could remind them they were still alive.
What kind of horror had descended upon this world?
...
From the highest floor of Babel, the very Goddess of Beauty and her loyal captain, Ottar—the most powerful adventurer in all of Orario—watched as the world began to change.
In the distance, mountains faded as if they had never existed at all.
The roads that once led out of the labyrinth city were cut off abruptly, replaced by vast plains that no one had ever seen before.
Ottar gripped the hilt of his sword with tremendous force and, with all his will, tore his gaze away from the shifting landscape, turning it instead toward the eye that had opened above the world.
Cold sweat drenched his back, and his body trembled for a moment. He could feel that gaze linger on him—examining him—before finally moving on.
'If you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.'
He remembered reading that phrase in one of his goddess's old books, but he had never imagined how perfectly those words would reflect this moment.
As if something clicked in his mind, his eyes shifted to the divinely beautiful woman beside him. Her silver hair cascaded like threads of silk, and her attire accentuated her graceful, well-formed curves.
Any man who laid eyes on her would fall at her feet—but none would be worthy of even brushing them with their lips.
She was Freya, the most beautiful of all the gods.
Ottar felt his heart pound at the surge of emotion radiating from Freya. Her eyes gleamed intensely, her porcelain cheeks flushed, and her breathing grew heavy and uneven. The adventurer couldn't help but feel a strange mix of awe and fear at the overwhelming passion coursing through his goddess.
His blood raced at the sight of such divine beauty.
Freya slowly rose to her feet and stepped toward the edge of the balcony. She stretched her arms toward the sky, and a few seductive words formed on her lips.
It was no more than a whisper, not meant for anyone in particular—but thanks to Ottar's sharpened senses, he heard it clearly.
"What a beautiful soul... this must be what pure evil looks like."