The Arrival of the Overlord
The Death Knight fell, and the silence that followed was unnatural.
Elijah stood over its disintegrating corpse, Mimic cooling against his skin, the edges of her living form twitching with residual bloodlust. Smoke curled through the square like dying breath. No birds returned to the trees. No wind stirred the ash. The village was too still.
The villagers didn't move.
They stared at the man who had stepped from nothing and killed a legend.
Elijah said nothing.
He had already noticed the change.
It wasn't sound. It wasn't light. It was pressure.
Something massive was descending—not in form, but in weight. Like gravity itself had chosen a direction and began pressing everything downward.
Mimic tensed violently.
Then convulsed.
She coiled so tightly around Elijah's chest it almost crushed him—writhing, tightening, trying to vanish inside him.
A whisper escaped her core:
"Even a World Item can feel fear."
Elijah's eyes narrowed.
And then the sky cracked open.
There was no throne.
No divine chorus.
Just void—a pulsing hole of absolute black that split reality above the village square. Red veins of mana tore outward like lightning across the clouds, and from within that abyss descended a single, floating figure.
Tall. Skeletal. Robes of royal black and gold. Rings glinting with power. His aura hit like a tidal wave of intent.
No staff. No throne. Just presence.
He didn't fall.
He arrived.
And when he did, the world acknowledged him.
Albedo descended behind him with grace that belonged to another species—her wings folded tight, her armor glinting. The halberd at her side radiated lethal elegance. She landed without a sound.
She looked upon the battlefield, the corpse, the fear—then raised her voice.
Not loud.
Not shouted.
Just inevitable.
"Tremble… and bear witness."
Even those who didn't understand the language fell to their knees.
Elijah remained standing.
The floating figure slowly opened his skeletal arms, robe flowing like storm clouds stitched with runes.
And with a voice that echoed across dimensions, he declared:
"I am Ainz Ooal Gown!!"
The name hit like thunder.
Elijah didn't move.
But behind his calm gaze, his mind locked on the sound. On the memories it unearthed.
A name from another world.
A guild of monsters.
A paladin clad in white, smiling.
A duel.
No—a massacre.
Touch Me.
Ainz Ooal Gown.
The Overlord's gaze turned directly to Elijah.
"You stood through that."
Elijah met his eyes. "I've felt worse."
"Interesting…" Ainz descended to ground level. "You're not with the villagers. You're not with the Slane Theocracy."
He paused.
His voice turned curious. Controlled.
A mask of power, as every true Overlord wears before his subordinates.
"…Are you a player?"
Elijah studied him. "Are you?"
Ainz tilted his head, then chuckled—deep, low, but not unkind.
"…I recognize you. Not by name. Not clearly. But I've seen you before."
A beat passed.
And then it clicked.
"Touch Me," Ainz said softly. "You trained with him."
Elijah gave a slow nod. "You watched me lose for six months straight."
Ainz laughed, and for a moment, he was no ruler. He was just Momonga—a man remembering old friends.
"That's right. You were the ghost with the stealth build everyone complained about."
"They tried to patch me."
"They couldn't catch you."
"I didn't let them."
Ainz's skull shifted slightly—a gesture of fond amusement.
"I remember now. You broke the dodge algorithm so badly people started PvPing you just to see if you were real."
"I wasn't."
Albedo took a step forward, her golden eyes locked on Elijah.
"He speaks to Lord Ainz with ease. As if they are equals."
Ainz didn't respond.
Elijah turned his gaze to her—assessing.
She was stunning.
And real.
Not a script. Not data. She moved with intention. Reacted. Calculated.
"…Albedo," Elijah said, more to himself than her.
Her head tilted. "You know my name."
"I remember your bio."
She frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Elijah studied her. "You don't remember… what you were?"
Albedo stepped closer, her expression untouched by uncertainty. "I have always served Lord Ainz. That is all that matters."
Her eyes swept him up and down, lips curving slightly.
"You're strong. But not above him."
Elijah smiled. "No one is."
Albedo scoffed at the flicker of charm in his voice. Her tone turned sharp. "Your confidence is amusing. I suppose even shadows have egos."
Mimic stirred at Elijah's back like a jealous specter.
Ainz raised a hand, theatrical once again in posture. "Enough, Albedo."
She bowed without hesitation, but her eyes lingered on Elijah like a sword waiting to be unsheathed.
Ainz's voice returned to command.
"Now… Elijah, was it? You fought a Death Knight. Alone."
"I'm used to being alone."
"Not anymore."
The Overlord stepped closer.
"If you're here… truly here… then that means more of us may be. That changes everything."
He extended a hand—not in friendship, not in peace, but in recognition.
"Come to Nazarick. We have much to discuss."
Elijah looked toward the villagers once. Enri was still watching. She didn't speak.
He turned back to Ainz.
And accepted.