CH : 03 Village Attack

The towering trees stretched endlessly, their branches clawing at the moonlit sky like skeletal hands. Shadows danced ominously on the forest floor, their movements teasing my rising unease. My mind raced, heart pounding with equal parts confusion and intrigue. Was this some unforeseen ripple of the butterfly effect? A catastrophic malfunction of wild magic? Or perhaps the work of that enigmatic being who hurled me into this body in the first place?

Could it truly be that I had been thrust into the New World of Overlord? Or is it some other world?

"My voice sounds different," I murmured to myself, a note of confusion in my tone. The sound that echoed back to him felt deeper, richer than usual, a subtle alteration that added to his growing sense of disorientation.

"Is this a different world? And I am here without the great Tomb?" I wondered aloud, referring to the great Tomb. My mind raced through possibilities, trying to rationalize the inexplicable situation while clinging to the familiarity of my new body.

Panic, frustration, and suspicion mingled within me, threatening to overwhelm my usually composed demeanor. However, a surprising calm settled over me again.

"Uuuhhhh, forget it," I muttered, frustration still simmering beneath my calm facade. "I need to get out of this forest and see if I am in the right world!. Or this just some fucked up part of multiverse"

With a mental command, I activated my ability to fly, feeling the familiar rush of freedom as I was lifted from the forest floor and soared into the night sky. The sensation of weightlessness was both exhilarating and surreal, a stark reminder of the fantastical nature of this new reality with the new body.

As I ascended, my gaze turned upward, and he couldn't help but marvel at the pristine beauty around me. The air was crisp and untainted, devoid of the pollution that plagued my previous world. The stars twinkled like diamonds against a canvas of deep blue, a sight that took his breath away.

"Amazing," I murmured, my voice filled with wonder. "The air here is so fresh, it must never have been polluted."

I allowed myself a moment to appreciate the sheer magnificence of the clear night sky,An experience I have not had the opportunity to witness in the past 13 years. Even then my Earth wasn't still as clean as this one.

"Beautiful... absolutely beautiful," I whispered, a sense of awe washing over me. "It certainly resembles the Overlord world; however, it could also simply be any typical medieval or medieval fantasy setting."

But my thoughts were interrupted as I directed my gaze downward, taking in the vast expanse of the forest below.

"Wow, this forest is damn huge," I remarked, noting the differences between this place and the virtual landscapes of YGGDRASIL. "I've seen similar forests in YGGDRASIL, but this... this feels much more real."

I aimed for a point on the ground and landed gracefully, my obsidian armor glinting under the stars of the world.

With a wave of my skeletal hand, an ominous aura spilled forth, suffusing the surroundings with a malevolent energy. The once verdant grass and vibrant trees withered under its touch, a testament to the immense power at my simple command.

"I must be more careful with my Despair Aura," I muttered to myself, glancing around at the withered grass and twisted trees that bore testament to my new power.

As my anger ebbed, I noticed a small form lying nearby, its green skin a stark contrast to the dying landscape.

"A goblin?" I remarked with a mix of curiosity and regret. "I didn't mean for this to happen, little one."

Approaching the creature, I knelt beside it, my glowing red eyes scanning for any signs of life.

I took out a black sword from my inventory and stabbed the goblin. My grip on the black sword tightened, his hollow gaze fixated on the goblin's bleeding form. The metallic scent of blood filled the air, a stark reminder of the stark reality before me.

My mind raced as he stared at the goblin's lifeless body, the reality of the situation sinking in like a heavy anchor in my undead heart.

"This... Everything appears to be functioning properly." I muttered, my voice tinged with curiosity. The weight of the situation settled upon him like a leaden cloak, the implications staggering in their enormity.

As I withdrew from the lifeless form, a newfound clarity pierced through the haze of confusion. "It all seems real. All of it, As real as reality could be" I declared, my tone resolute despite the incredulity of my words.

The revelation brought with it a strange mix of emotions — the realization of mortality, the absence of fatigue in my undead form, and the eerie calm that pervaded my being. I pondered the implications, my mind grappling with the conundrum of existing in this new, tangible world.

"I can still wield magic, access my inventory, and remain composed after taking a life... perhaps I'm in the right world, at least I hope so?," I reasoned, my thoughts racing as I attempted to piece together the puzzle of this world and new reality.

The absence of physical exhaustion gnawed at the edges of my consciousness, a stark reminder of the uncanny nature of my new being. Yet, amidst the turmoil, a thirst for knowledge blossomed within me again.

"I need more information to be sure of it," I resolved, my crimson eyes alight with determination. In this unfamiliar reality, knowledge would be his greatest ally, guiding me through the labyrinthine depths of this new world and would help me figure out if I should run or walk!

***

As the sun slowly began its ascent over the horizon, casting a warm golden glow across the sprawling landscape, I found myself immersed in the tranquility of the early morning. The gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze and the distant chirping of birds provided a serene backdrop to his journey.

Despite my ability to effortlessly traverse the terrain with [FLY], I chose to walk. I relished the sensation of solid ground beneath my feet, a rare feeling for one who had spent countless hours imprisoned in a body. Besides, flying recklessly in this unfamiliar realm seemed unwise, especially considering my uncertain status as an undead being. This could totally be one of those messed-up fantasy worlds.

As I strolled along, lost in my thoughts, a sudden cacophony shattered the peaceful ambiance. At first, it was just distant voices, but they quickly escalated into desperate screams that tore through the tranquil morning air like jagged shards of glass.

My instincts kicked in, overriding any hesitation. Without hesitation, I invoked the formidable power of [Perfect Unknowable], a spell that cloaked him in absolute invisibility, rendering me undetectable to both sight and sound.

Following the anguished cries, I swiftly made his way towards the source of the disturbance. The scene that greeted him was a stark contrast to the serene beauty I had been enjoying moments ago. A small village lay before him, engulfed in chaos and flames. Houses smoldered, casting ominous shadows, while armored knights on horseback wreaked havoc among the terrified villagers.

The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and the pungent smoke of burning thatch. My undead nature spared me from the visceral revulsion that a living being might feel at such carnage, but I couldn't help but feel a cold detachment as he observed the brutality unfolding before him. "Yep, I feel nothing. If I were human, I would have at least a bit more reasonable" I mused inwardly, my mind detached yet analytical.

The memory of Touch Me, a fellow guild member known for my compassion and heroism, crossed my thoughts. "Touch Me would just go there and help these villagers," I reflected, a pang of admiration mixed with a sense of duty stirring within him. "All right, this feels like the same world I was hoping for. I do more searching and if things are as they should be, I should save them and gather information about this world."

***

Captain Belius' eyes gleamed with sadistic delight as he surveyed the trembling villagers. "Well then, my men, our guests have arrived. Shall we give them a proper welcome?" he sneered, his voice dripping with malice.

The knights, clad in their menacing armor, responded with cold, mechanical precision. "At your command, Captain Belius," they intoned, drawing their longswords with a chilling, metallic hiss. The blades gleamed ominously in the dim light, ready to spill innocent blood.

The villagers, their faces streaked with tears, fell to their knees, pleading for mercy. Desperation painted their voices as they cried out to the gods, hoping for a miracle to save them from this living nightmare.

Belius threw back his head and laughed, the sound echoing like a death knell. "Foolish peasants, your prayers fall on deaf ears. Not even your king cares for your wretched lives!" His laughter was a cruel, mocking symphony, underscoring the hopelessness of their plight.

"I think that's enough," a voice resonated, cutting through the chaos like a blade. The knights exchanged bewildered glances, each trying to identify the source. None of their comrades possessed a voice so chilling, so commanding.

Emerging from the shadows, the owner of the voice made his presence known. Two points of crimson light blazed within the hollow sockets of a skull, exuding an eerie glow. He was draped in an elaborate, jet-black academic gown adorned with intricate golden and violet edges. Each of his skeletal fingers bore a ring, each more exquisite than the last.

It was death incarnate, a specter from the abyss, come to claim their souls.

"M-Monster!"

"U-Undead!"

"Aiiiiiiieeeeee!"

The knights' cries of terror filled the night as they beheld the undead figure standing before them. The sheer horror of his presence paralyzed them, their earlier bravado shattered. Panic set in, and all they could think of was to flee as fast as their legs could carry them.

"Oh God, please save me..." one of the knights whimpered, his voice barely a whisper.

The undead figure chuckled, a hollow, echoing sound that chilled the blood. "How ironic," he mused, his tone dripping with contempt. "The villagers begged you for mercy, and you showed none. Now you plead to your god for salvation. Pathetic."

With deliberate slowness, the undead being raised his skeletal hand.

"[Despair Aura level 5]."

A dark aura spread like a storm, engulfing the area in an oppressive shroud. Thirty knights dropped to the ground, lifeless, like marionettes with their strings severed. The remaining twenty knights watched in horror as their comrades fell, their bravado melting into sheer terror. They trembled, on the brink of losing control, fear coursing through their veins like poison.

"You, you lot, go and kill that monster!" Belius shouted, his voice cracking with desperation. "I'm not someone who should die here! All of you, hurry up and protect me! Be my shields!"

The remaining knights stood frozen, not a single one willing to step forward. Their loyalty crumbled under the weight of their fear; none wanted to sacrifice their lives for Belius' cowardice.

The undead being, unfazed, slowly raised both his arms. A dense black fog materialized, swirling ominously before it surged toward the fallen knights' bodies, enveloping them in its sinister embrace.

The fog expanded, melding with the corpses. One by one, the thirty lifeless knights began to stir, rising from the ground like marionettes pulled by invisible strings, now twisted into grotesque forms resembling zombies.

"Back in YGGDRASIL, this process was different," thought Mark, observing the transformation with a detached curiosity.

The black fluid continued to flow, coating the knights entirely. Their bodies convulsed and warped under its influence, undergoing a nightmarish metamorphosis.

After several agonizing seconds, the liquid receded, revealing the newly transformed warriors. Standing at an imposing 2.3 meters tall, their bodies had become bulkier, their human features lost to a demonic visage.

Each held a large shield in their left hand and a wavy-bladed flamberg in their right. Encased in full plate armor, they exuded a menacing aura. Demonic horns jutted from their helmets, and spikes adorned their armor. A black cape billowed behind them, completing their fearsome transformation.

The knights' terrified eyes widened as they took in the sight of their former comrades, now monstrous abominations. Their despair deepened, knowing they faced an enemy beyond any they had ever encountered.

"Exterminate all the knights," the undead being commanded with an air of finality.

"I hear and obey, oh supreme one," one of the Death Knights replied, pride resonating in his deep, chilling voice.

"Holy crap, did he just talk? That's incredible!" Mark thought, momentarily captivated by the unexpected display. This wasn't something he remembered from Novel or anime, sparking a flood of realizations.

It hit him again—how much the timeline, or possibly even the entire world, had shifted due to his subtle meddling. Or perhaps this wasn't even the Overlord world as he remembered it but one governed by entirely different rules. The uncertainty gnawed at him, a sharp reminder that he couldn't afford to charge in guns blazing without first piecing together the puzzle.

The absence of the Great Tomb was a glaring hole in the equation. If the Tomb were here, so would its formidable defenses—and, more importantly, its legendary guardians. With them and their arsenal of World Items, especially with those Two. He wouldn't need to tread so cautiously. But without their protection, Mark knew he had to play his cards carefully.

That's why even now he had created more than one Death Knight, he could escape in case something goes horribly wrong.

The Death Knights advanced like a relentless storm, their movements swift and precise.

"Aiiiiieee!"

"NO, NOOO, NOOOOO!"

Panicked squeals filled the air as the remaining knights realized their doom. One man broke into a desperate run, but only managed four steps before a Death Knight transformed into a dark mist, reappearing in front of the fleeing knight and slicing his body in two. The bisected halves collapsed in opposite directions, spilling his internal organs onto the blood-soaked ground.

"[Go kill the knights that are around the village,]" commanded Mark, his voice calm and authoritative.

Ten Death Knights dispersed in different directions, seeking out the scattered knights. The remaining Death Knights continued their merciless slaughter. Limbs and heads flew through the air, and the grass, once green, was now stained a deep, crimson red from the sea of blood.

In the blink of an eye, the hunters had become the hunted. The Death Knights moved with terrifying efficiency, their gruesome work turning the battlefield into a scene of absolute carnage.

"P-Pl-Please," Belius stammered, his voice cracking with fear. "I come from a rich family in the Slane Theocracy. I can offer you plenty of money, please let me go!" Tears streamed down his cheeks as he pleaded for his life.

"I want nothing from you, mortal," the Death Knight replied, his voice devoid of emotion. "But I can give you only one thing..."

Belius, on his knees, trembled as he looked up at the imposing figure of the Death Knight before him.

"DEATH," the Death Knight declared, plunging his wavy-bladed flamberge into Belius' chest without hesitation.

Belius let out a gut-wrenching scream, "Leh, leh me guh! Ah beggehg yeh!" His pleas fell on deaf ears as the blade tore through his flesh and armor, blood spurting in all directions. In moments, Belius's life was brutally snuffed out.

The Death Knight lifted his head, his dreadful eyes scanning the frozen villagers who stood witness to the merciless execution. Their faces twisted in terror, realizing the fate that awaited them at the hands of these merciless beings.

"All right, that's enough. Good job, Death Knights," the undead being spoke with an air of authority that commanded respect.

The Death Knights immediately knelt down before their master, their armor clinking softly against the ground as a sign of reverence. "We live to serve you, Oh God of Death," one of them declared proudly, the others echoing the sentiment with unwavering loyalty.

"Umu, I'm pleased with your dedication," replied the undead being, his voice resonating with an ancient power.

With a nod, he passed through the ranks of the Death Knights, their ominous presence parting like shadows, and approached the quaking villagers. Their faces were etched with terror, expecting imminent death.

But to their bewilderment, the undead being spoken in a surprisingly gentle tone. "Hello there, good people. You have been saved. Be at ease," he reassured them, his voice carrying an otherworldly calmness.

The villagers exchanged confused glances. How could a terrifying undead creature be their savior?

"I witnessed these knights attacking this village, so I intervened," the undead being explained, his words laced with sincerity.

"Ohh..." the villagers murmured in disbelief, their fear slowly giving way to gratitude.

As the noise of gratitude filled the air, looks of relief slowly dawned on the faces of the villagers. Yet, despite their newfound sense of safety, an underlying tension lingered.

"Without your intervention, we would all be dead by now. We owe you our deepest thanks!" exclaimed an elderly man, his voice trembling with emotion.

"May we know the name of our savior?" another villager asked, curiosity and gratitude mingling in their tone.

"My name..." the undead began, his voice carrying a weight of ancient knowledge and power. "My name is Ainz Ooal Gown," he proudly declared, his crimson eyes gleaming with a mix of authority and benevolence.

The villagers exchanged astonished glances. Ainz Ooal Gown. The name carried an aura of mystery and grandeur, as if it resonated with echoes from a distant past.

"My lord, how can we repay you for saving us?" the elderly man inquired, his voice filled with earnest gratitude.

Ainz's gaze softened, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I have been in a deep slumber for thousands of years, and this world has changed a great deal during that time. The only payment I seek is information," he explained calmly, his eyes scanning the faces of the villagers.

The villagers' eyes widened in astonishment. Thousands of years? This Ainz Ooal Gown was not just a savior but an ancient being, a relic of a forgotten era.

*****

What do you think?!