Overlord: The Wandering Sorcerer Chapter 1 — The Last Day of YGGDRASIL
The last day of YGGDRASIL was quieter than Momonga had expected.
There were no trumpets.
No dramatic announcements.
No final battle worthy of the game that had consumed so many years of his life.
There was only silence.
And a clock.
23:57.
Momonga sat alone in the Great Underground Tomb of Nazarick, staring at the enormous throne room.
The place was empty.
Completely empty.
The guardians were not there.
The servants were not there.
His guildmates were not there.
Even the familiar sounds of Nazarick seemed somehow muted.
He had stayed until the very end.
Of course he had.
If he was going to watch YGGDRASIL disappear, he would at least do it from the place that had once meant everything to him.
Ainz Ooal Gown.
The name still appeared above his character.
A guild name.
A title.
A memory.
Perhaps all three.
Momonga looked down at his skeletal hands.
For years, those hands had belonged to him.
Not literally, of course.
But in a strange way, they had become more familiar than his real hands.
His real body was tired.
Human.
Weak.
Mortal.
This body had never been any of those things.
He had chosen an Overlord because he had liked the design.
Because it had looked cool.
Because, at the time, that had seemed like a perfectly good reason.
Now he had been an undead magic caster for so long that the appearance barely bothered him anymore.
He leaned back against the throne.
“Three minutes.”
His voice echoed through the chamber.
There was no one to hear it.
Momonga smiled faintly.
“Well… I suppose that’s that.”
He had already said goodbye.
Not to the game.
To the people.
That was the difficult part.
One by one, they had left.
Ulbert.
Peroroncino.
Touch Me.
Warrior Takemikazuchi.
Bukubukuchagama.
And all the others.
Some had disappeared years ago.
Others had stayed longer.
But eventually, every one of them had moved on.
Momonga had remained.
Perhaps because he was stubborn.
Perhaps because Nazarick was the last place where their memories still felt real.
Or perhaps because he simply had nowhere else he wanted to be.
He glanced toward the clock.
23:58.
“Two minutes.”
Momonga sighed.
Then he remembered something.
Something he had been considering for the last several hours.
It was probably ridiculous.
Completely unnecessary.
And yet…
He opened the menu.
The interface appeared before him.
One minute.
He scrolled through the options.
His finger stopped.
NPC Settings.
Momonga stared at the words.
The NPCs of Nazarick.
They were not real.
He knew that.
They were creations.
Data written by the Supreme Beings.
Character settings.
Appearance.
Abilities.
Personality.
And yet, over the years, he had sometimes caught himself talking to them as though they were alive.
Especially after everyone else had gone.
He had always wondered what it would be like if they really were.
He knew the answer, of course.
It was impossible.
YGGDRASIL was ending.
The game would shut down.
Everything would disappear.
Still…
He opened the settings.
His eyes moved through the list.
Albedo.
Shalltear.
Cocytus.
Demiurge.
Sebas.
Aura.
Mare.
Pandora’s Actor.
Narberal.
Momonga stopped.
Narberal Gamma.
A battle maid.
A Doppelgänger.
One of the Pleiades.
He had always found her character settings interesting.
Perhaps because she was one of the few NPCs whose personality had been deliberately designed to be rather… blunt.
Momonga chuckled.
“At least you wouldn’t be boring.”
The clock changed.
23:59.
One minute.
Momonga looked around the throne room one final time.
Then he made a decision.
It was a ridiculous decision.
An emotional decision.
Exactly the kind of decision he would normally have avoided.
But there was nobody left to criticize him for it.
He selected Narberal Gamma.
A system message appeared.
Select NPC companion.
Momonga blinked.
“Companion?”
That was not a menu option he remembered seeing before.
He hesitated.
Perhaps it was some final event.
Perhaps the developers had added something for the last few seconds.
He should have ignored it.
Instead, he selected YES.
The clock reached zero.
00:00.
Momonga waited for the logout screen.
Nothing happened.
He waited another second.
Then another.
“Strange.”
The game did not shut down.
The throne room did not disappear.
The interface vanished.
Momonga stood.
“…What?”
The air felt different.
There was no system interface.
No background music.
No artificial atmosphere.
He could smell something.
Dust.
Stone.
Cold air.
Real air.
Momonga slowly raised one skeletal hand.
He could feel it.
The temperature.
The weight.
The texture of the throne beneath his fingers.
His undead body was no longer a collection of polygons.
It was…
Real.
A strange sensation spread through him.
Not fear.
His emotions were being suppressed.
As always.
But underneath that magical suppression was something else.
Confusion.
He turned his head.
Someone was standing behind him.
A woman.
She wore the familiar black-and-white uniform of the Pleiades battle maids.
Silver hair.
Golden eyes.
A beautiful face that looked almost too perfect to belong to any human being.
She was kneeling.
Her head bowed.
Momonga stared.
“Narberal?”
The woman lifted her head.
“Yes, Ainz-sama.”
Momonga froze.
The name echoed through the throne room.
Ainz-sama.
Not Momonga.
Not guildmaster.
Ainz.
He looked toward the entrance.
Then behind himself.
Then back at her.
“Narb… eral.”
“Yes.”
“Are you… real?”
Narberal’s expression changed only slightly.
“I believe so.”
Momonga almost laughed.
That was not a particularly reassuring answer.
He walked toward her.
“Stand.”
Narberal immediately rose.
She was exactly as he remembered her.
No.
Not exactly.
She was more.
There was weight to her movements.
Her clothing moved naturally.
Her eyes followed him.
She breathed.
Momonga stared at her for several seconds.
“Can you remember YGGDRASIL?”
Narberal tilted her head.
“I know that name.”
“What do you remember?”
“I remember serving the Supreme Beings.”
Momonga’s chest tightened.
“Do you remember the others?”
“Yes.”
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
He looked away.
For a moment, he did not know what to say.
Then Narberal spoke.
“However…”
Momonga turned toward her.
“Yes?”
“You are the only Supreme Being here.”
Silence.
Momonga slowly looked around the throne room.
The words finally sank in.
“The only one?”
“Yes.”
“And Nazarick?”
Narberal looked toward the empty chamber.
“I do not sense the others.”
Momonga’s eyes narrowed.
He immediately activated every detection spell available to him.
Nothing.
No Albedo.
No Demiurge.
No Cocytus.
No Shalltear.
No Aura.
No Mare.
No Sebas.
No Pleiades.
No servants.
No guardians.
Nothing.
Only himself.
And Narberal.
Momonga stood motionless.
Then, unexpectedly, he felt relieved.
The magical suppression prevented him from showing much emotion, but somewhere inside him a thought appeared.
At least I’m not completely alone.
He looked at Narberal.
She was watching him patiently.
“Narbe.”
“Yes, Ainz-sama.”
“Don’t call me that.”
She blinked.
“Forgive me?”
“I mean…”
Momonga paused.
He looked at the enormous throne behind him.
At the empty hall.
At the empty tomb.
At the place that had been created for a guild that no longer existed.
“I don’t think we should use that name.”
Narberal seemed puzzled.
“Why?”
“Because there is no Nazarick.”
Her expression became serious.
“Then what should I call you?”
Momonga thought about it.
He had no answer.
For the first time since arriving here, he felt something approaching genuine panic.
If Nazarick was gone…
If the guild was gone…
If this was no longer YGGDRASIL…
Then who was he?
The question remained unanswered.
Until he noticed something.
A breeze.
A real breeze.
It moved through the enormous hall.
Momonga looked toward the entrance.
There was a faint glow beyond it.
Not the artificial light of YGGDRASIL.
Sunlight.
He walked forward.
Narberal followed.
They passed through the doorway.
Momonga stopped.
For several seconds, he simply stared.
The Great Underground Tomb of Nazarick was gone.
Not destroyed.
Not damaged.
Gone.
There was no underground chamber.
No stone corridors.
No enormous staircase.
No guardians’ quarters.
No mausoleum.
No visible entrance.
Instead, they stood in the middle of a vast forest.
Trees stretched in every direction.
Birds called somewhere in the distance.
Leaves moved in the wind.
The sky was blue.
Momonga looked upward.
He had seen virtual skies countless times.
This one was different.
It was beautiful.
Far too beautiful.
“Where are we?”
Narberal stepped beside him.
“I do not know.”
Momonga looked at her.
She looked back.
For the first time since they had met, neither of them had an answer.
He walked several steps forward.
Grass bent beneath his feet.
He crouched.
Touched it.
Real.
He stood again.
“Interesting.”
Narberal waited.
Momonga looked toward the horizon.
Then he smiled.
A small, almost human smile.
“Well, Narbe.”
“Yes?”
“I suppose we have somewhere to go.”
“Where?”
“I have absolutely no idea.”
Narberal stared at him.
Momonga continued.
“So let’s find out.”
He began walking.
After a moment, Narberal followed.
They walked through the forest without knowing where they were going.
Without an army.
Without a kingdom.
Without a plan for world domination.
For the first time in centuries of imagined history, Ainz Ooal Gown had no grand objective.
He was simply exploring.
And somehow…
Momonga found that he liked it.
They walked for several hours.
Momonga quickly discovered several things.
First:
The sun was real.
Second:
The forest was enormous.
Third:
Narberal was not particularly interested in making conversation.
And fourth:
He was hungry.
That last discovery was particularly strange.
“Why am I hungry?”
Narberal looked at him.
“You are an undead.”
“I know.”
“Undead do not require food.”
“I know that too.”
“Then perhaps you are not hungry.”
Momonga stopped.
“…I definitely feel hungry.”
Narberal considered this.
“Perhaps this world has altered your physiology.”
“That is possible.”
He stared at the forest.
“Or perhaps I’m simply imagining it.”
They continued walking.
Eventually they found a stream.
Momonga knelt beside it.
The water was crystal clear.
He touched it.
Cold.
He lifted his hand.
Water dripped from his skeletal fingers.
“This is incredible.”
Narberal looked at the stream.
“It is water.”
“Yes.”
Momonga looked at her.
“But it’s real water.”
Narberal said nothing.
He laughed.
A strange sound came from a skeletal face.
“Narbe.”
“Yes?”
“Do you know what the strangest part of this is?”
“What?”
“I think I’m happy.”
Narberal’s eyes widened slightly.
Momonga looked at the water.
“I haven’t felt this curious in years.”
He stood.
“We should find civilization.”
“Why?”
“Information.”
Narberal nodded.
“Understood.”
“And food.”
“Again, you are an undead.”
“Yes, yes.
I know.”
He started walking.
After a few steps he stopped.
“Narbe?”
“Yes?”
“One more thing.”
“Yes?”
“We need names.”
Narberal looked at him.
“Names?”
“We can’t walk into a human settlement and introduce ourselves as Ainz Ooal Gown and Narberal Gamma.”
“Why not?”
“Because those are not exactly normal names.”
Narberal looked thoughtful.
“What name will you use?”
Momonga considered several possibilities.
He needed something simple.
Something believable.
Something that sounded like an adventurer.
Then he remembered an old idea.
“Mommon.”
Narberal repeated it.
“Mommon.”
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“Then I shall be Nabe.”
Momonga smiled.
“Perfect.”
And so, without realizing it, the two of them took their first steps into the New World.
Not as rulers.
Not as conquerors.
Not as gods.
Just two adventurers who had absolutely no idea what they had gotten themselves into.
Mommon and Nabe.
Their adventure had begun.