Overlord: The Wandering Sorcerer Chapter 20 — The Undead Adventurer
The first skeleton charged.
Nabe met it halfway.
Her sword flashed once.
The skeleton collapsed.
Another attacked from the side.
She destroyed it with a single strike.
Evileye raised her hand.
“Fireball.”
A sphere of flame tore through the undead formation.
Bones scattered across the stone floor.
Momonga remained still.
His attention was fixed on the masked undead.
The enemy wasn’t moving.
He was watching.
Studying.
Momonga knew that expression.
It was the expression of someone calculating the strength of an opponent.
The masked undead raised one hand.
“Stop.”
The undead army froze.
Momonga lowered his staff slightly.
“What do you want?”
The undead smiled.
“To know what you are.”
“I already told you.”
“A player.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
The undead shook his head.
“You are something else.”
Momonga’s eyes narrowed.
“Explain.”
The undead pointed at Nabe.
“A player would not have brought an NPC like that.”
Momonga glanced at Nabe.
“Why not?”
“Because you would have chosen yourself.”
Momonga understood.
This wasn’t the same situation as Nazarick.
The transfer had been different.
The rules had been different.
And this undead knew something about them.
“How did you arrive here?”
The undead laughed.
“I didn’t.”
Momonga froze.
“What?”
“I was born here.”
Silence.
Evileye stared at him.
“You’re lying.”
“No.”
The undead touched his own chest.
“I was created by one.”
“By a player?”
“Yes.”
Momonga’s gaze sharpened.
“And your creator?”
“Dead.”
“How?”
The undead smiled.
“He killed himself.”
Momonga didn’t answer.
The undead continued.
“He discovered the truth.”
“What truth?”
“That this world doesn’t want players.”
Momonga looked around the chamber.
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I survived.”
“Survived what?”
“The collapse.”
Momonga’s expression became serious.
“What collapse?”
The undead pointed upward.
“The system.”
Momonga’s mind raced.
“Explain.”
The undead shook his head.
“Not here.”
He looked toward the seven NPCs.
“They’re listening.”
Momonga turned.
The NPCs remained motionless.
“Let them.”
The undead laughed.
“Still acting like a guildmaster.”
“I’m not a guildmaster.”
“Not yet.”
Momonga’s eyes narrowed.
The undead suddenly disappeared.
Nabe reacted instantly.
“Behind you!”
Momonga turned.
The undead appeared directly behind him.
A blade of black energy struck.
Momonga raised a barrier.
The impact sent him sliding backward.
Nabe attacked.
The undead blocked her sword.
Evileye cast a spell.
He vanished.
The spell missed.
He reappeared above them.
“Interesting.”
Momonga raised his staff.
The world froze.
Dust stopped in midair.
Nabe’s hair remained suspended.
Evileye’s spell froze halfway through its formation.
The undead stood motionless.
Momonga smiled.
“Got you.”
He prepared his next spell.
Then stopped.
The undead’s eyes were glowing.
He could move.
Impossible.
Momonga immediately understood.
“Time resistance.”
The undead smiled.
“Exactly.”
Time resumed.
Momonga retreated.
“Who created you?”
The undead laughed.
“Someone who knew what was coming.”
“Who?”
“Someone who had already met you.”
Momonga froze.
“Me?”
“Not you.”
The undead pointed at the guild emblem hanging around his neck.
“One of your friends.”
Momonga stared.
The emblem.
The design.
The memories.
A possibility emerged.
“No…”
The undead smiled.
“Yes.”
Momonga’s voice became quiet.
“Which one?”
The undead didn’t answer.
Instead, he removed the emblem from his neck.
He threw it toward Momonga.
Momonga caught it.
The moment he touched it, memories flashed through his mind.
YGGDRASIL.
A guild hall.
A group of players.
A woman laughing.
A man arguing.
A strange NPC standing nearby.
Then darkness.
Momonga released the emblem.
“What was that?”
The undead spoke softly.
“A memory.”
“Whose?”
“Yours.”
Momonga stared at him.
“That’s impossible.”
The undead laughed.
“Is it?”
He raised his hand.
A magical image appeared in the air.
Momonga saw himself.
Not as Mommon.
Not as the undead adventurer.
As Momonga.
Standing inside a guild hall.
But not Nazarick.
Another place.
Another guild.
Another group.
He was speaking to someone.
The image was distorted.
Momonga couldn’t hear the words.
Then the vision changed.
He saw a door.
The same door.
The same symbol.
The same tomb.
Then himself walking through it.
Alone.
Momonga stepped backward.
“I’ve never seen this.”
The undead shook his head.
“You don’t remember.”
“Why?”
“Because the transfer erased it.”
Momonga’s mind raced.
Could it be true?
Could there have been something before the final moments of YGGDRASIL?
Something he had forgotten?
He looked at Nabe.
She was staring at the vision.
“Master…”
Momonga’s voice was quiet.
“I don’t remember.”
Nabe stepped closer.
“Then we will find out.”
The undead smiled.
“That’s why I brought you here.”
Momonga looked at him.
“You brought me here?”
“Yes.”
“You knew I was coming.”
“I knew someone would.”
“Why?”
The undead pointed toward the empty throne.
“Because the tomb needed a new master.”
Momonga stared at the throne.
“I don’t want it.”
“Why?”
The undead’s smile disappeared.
“Because I’ve seen what happens to those who sit there.”
The chamber became silent.
“What happens?”
“They stop being themselves.”
Momonga looked at the throne.
“What does it turn them into?”
The undead answered:
“A Supreme Being.”
Momonga’s eyes widened.
He finally understood the danger.
The tomb wasn’t waiting for him to become its master.
It was trying to make him one.
Nabe stepped beside him.
“Then we should leave.”
The undead laughed.
“You can’t.”
Momonga turned.
“Why?”
“Because the tomb has already chosen.”
The symbol on Momonga’s cloak suddenly ignited.
A black circle spread across his chest.
Momonga tried to remove it.
Nothing happened.
The throne began to glow.
Ancient runes appeared around the room.
The seven NPCs immediately knelt.
The silver-haired woman bowed her head.
The undead stepped backward.
“No…”
Momonga looked at him.
“What is happening?”
The undead’s voice trembled.
“The succession.”
The throne began to rise.
The entire chamber shook.
Momonga’s vision blurred.
A voice echoed inside his head.
SUPREME BEING DETECTED.
He gritted his teeth.
“Stop.”
SUCCESSOR IDENTIFIED.
“Stop!”
GUILD MASTER AUTHORITY TRANSFER INITIATED.
Nabe grabbed his arm.
“Master!”
Momonga looked at her.
For the first time, genuine fear entered his voice.
“Nabe…”
“Yes?”
“I think the tomb is trying to make me its master.”
She didn’t hesitate.
“Then we refuse.”
Momonga looked at her.
A faint smile appeared.
“Agreed.”
The silver-haired woman suddenly stood.
“There is one way.”
Momonga turned.
“What?”
She looked at the throne.
“You must destroy it.”
The undead stared at her.
“You know what that means.”
“Yes.”
“You’ll die.”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
Momonga stepped toward her.
“No.”
She looked surprised.
“No?”
“I don’t know you.”
“Exactly.”
“But you are an NPC.”
She smiled.
“So?”
Momonga looked at Nabe.
Then at the seven kneeling figures.
Then at the throne.
“I won’t destroy an entire guild base just because it wants me to sit on a chair.”
The undead laughed.
“You’re definitely different.”
Momonga raised his staff.
“Everyone.”
The NPCs looked up.
“Stand.”
One by one, they rose.
Momonga looked toward the throne.
“We’re leaving.”
The throne pulsed.
The voice returned.
YOU CANNOT LEAVE.
Momonga smiled.
“Then we’ll make a new exit.”
He raised his staff.
Nabe raised her sword.
Evileye prepared her magic.
The undead stepped beside them.
The silver-haired woman stood at the rear.
For the first time in two hundred years…
the abandoned guild had an army again.
Momonga pointed toward the throne.
“Destroy it.”
The battle for the forgotten guild began.