Chapter 7

It felt like an eternity had passed, and the pain that tormented me during that time had finally come to a stop. However, what came with it was the loss of my senses. I could not hear, taste, see, smell, or feel anything. It was like I was alone, imprisoned by my own thoughts.--

--Only me, myself, and I .

But this is actually quite refreshing to my mind. After experiencing such pain, all my senses had already overloaded.

Recalling Aamon's face, a wry chuckle reverberated within the confines of my mind. I really fooled myself into thinking that such a guy would just give me a hallucinogenic drug they always inject to themselves and nothing else.

Despite being aware of the fact that he might have come to kill me -- with the most painful one at that-- my mind just couldn't accept it. That was the first time I experienced such powerlessness, to the point that I implanted false hope into my brain.

Who could blame me for that?

Most people would surely do the same in that situation. It is engraved into our DNA, and pursuing survival is the purest instinct of most organisms. After all, self-preservation is an almost universal hallmark for life.

As an individual who pursues perfection, I'm still looking for my untapped potential to achieve my ultimate goal. Would I even be able to do that as a dead person?

No, there's no guarantee.

What comes after death remains uncertain for the living. However, although death is the inevitable ending of everyone, how they live is what gives meaning to their existence. As long as I haven't reached that point yet, I refuse to accept death.

...

I don't know when it happened, but a surge of sensation suddenly overwhelmed me. Unlike before though, the information doesn't seem to be complete. Even my dream resembles reality more than from my regained senses. It's like there's something restricting the flow of information.

Opening my eyes, I looked around me. My vision is still blurry so I could only make out their silhouettes. While doing so, I noticed that I was sitting on something hard and flat, my left hand holding something and my right hand propped on what I could only guess as the armrest of the seat.

The time it took for me to realize these things is a proof of how much my senses have become duller. Particularly my sense of touch, I wouldn't even know if I'm really holding onto something if not for the silhouette, and like a newborn, it's like I had forgotten how to communicate with my legs in order to stand up.

As my vision slowly came into focus, I was amazed by the view around me. I could finally see my surroundings clearly, which is a spacious hall.

The space is vast, with towering ceilings that seem to stretch up to the heavens. The walls are adorned with intricate carvings and the floor is made of polished marble, so smooth that it reflects the light of the chandeliers above like stars in the night sky.

Before me, a wide staircase leads down to the main floor, giving me the feeling of being on a grand stage. To my right, a wise-looking old man with a mane of gray hair, flanked by six maids in elegant uniforms. Their genuflected selves add to the regal atmosphere of the hall.

As I turn my gaze to the left, I am struck by the sight of a stunning woman with long black hair, dressed in a flowing white gown. She stands beside me, radiating beauty and grace. The contrast of her dark hair against the white of her dress is a sight to behold.

This scene is very familiar to me, and the holographic-looking floating windows in front of my vision says all about it. Showing things such as HP, MP, Name and so on.

"Overlord," I muttered, but my mouth didn't seem to move.

After saying that, like a switch, unfamiliar memories flooded my mind. It is the life of a human dog named Suzuki Satoru.

In that short amount of time, it gives me a whole new perspective to life. Specifically a life where one lacks practical talent, being at the bottom of the food chain, and being a slave in the modern world. A situation where you were forced to accept your place, not because of the doing of some exceptionally superior individuals, but rooted from your own inferiority and uselessness. To the point that the only joy you could get is by escaping reality and immersing yourself in the world of imagination, fantasy, and dream -- a game.

The question is -- Is this an illusion or reality? Am I still the same person or a completely new entity?

Well, it doesn't matter. As long as I can think, I exist. As long as I exist, the world around me will have meaning, whether it's an illusion or reality.

As long as my core identity remains intact, receiving new memories does not change the fact that I'm still myself. It simply adds a new color to the already vibrant canvas of my existence.

[23:56:01, 02, 03]

A particular set of numbers in my field of vision piqued my attention. Those numbers mean that there's only less than 4 minutes left before the server shuts down.

Realizing that, I activated one of the rings I'm wearing and disappeared from the throne room.

...

The view suddenly changed into a place full of mountains of glittering gold treasures that can make ordinary onlookers go blind. The treasures consist of jewelry, weapons, coins, artifacts and other various objects. However, none of these are of any value to me right now. It could even be said that these things are common to any guilds/players.

What's really important is what's behind the huge semi-oval door located on the very back of this place. It was so massive that it almost touched the high ceiling, and is as black as it can get like a never ending void of darkness within the wall.

Accessing my console, I clicked the icon for [Fly] spell. With a masterful manipulation of my console, I slowly floated in the air and flew across the mountains of treasure towards the door.

Landing on my foot, I looked at the door before me that seemed to devour any light that touches it.

"By this means you shall acquire the glory of the whole world / And

so you shall drive away all shadows and blindness," I spoke the words I found in the depths of my new memories.

As though in response to my wishes, the door of shadow collapsed into one point, the size of a fist, and was replaced with a tunnel.

Entering inside, countless weapons that were arranged neatly on the walls surrounded me. And before long, after passing thousands of weapons -- around a hundred meters from the entrance -- I reached a rectangular room, as wide and high as the one I came from. Unlike before though, this room is not glittering with lights but dim as a tomb.

As if reading my mind, my undead racial trait [Dark Vision] activated without any command from me. I could now see the inside properly, which looks like it is used to receive guests -- table and a sofa set in the otherwise empty room.

There are also other passages on both sides of the room leading further into the treasury. However, what I'm after is in this very room. Specifically, the skeletal figure wearing a robe, sitting comfortably on the sofa while sipping tea.

I probably look exactly like him considering he's programmed to randomly copy the appearance of one of the guild members -- which happens to be me, Momonga -- every time someone enters.

My presence entered his default programmed range and he reacted robotically. Standing up and morphing back to his original form, an egg-like head with 3 black holes replacing his mouth and eyes appeared. He wore a uniform similar to the ones used by the Neo-Nazi elite guards.

Pandora's Actor, the only NPC I know from the head to the sole of his feet. Because of that, he's the only one I can put some of my trust on once Nazarick is transported to the new world.

…