Overlord: The Wandering Sorcerer Chapter 22 — The Search Begins
The figure above the throne disappeared.
The darkness returned.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Momonga remained motionless.
His mind was running through possibilities.
A player.
Still alive.
After more than two hundred years.
It shouldn’t have been possible.
And yet this world had already broken every rule he had once understood.
Nabe approached him.
“Master?”
Momonga looked at her.
“We need to leave.”
The silver-haired woman nodded.
“That would be wise.”
Evileye looked around the chamber.
“Before the dungeon wakes up again?”
“Exactly.”
The masked undead laughed.
“You’re learning.”
Momonga glanced at him.
“Are you coming?”
The undead stopped laughing.
“You want me to?”
“You know more about this place than anyone else.”
“That’s not necessarily a good reason.”
“It is for me.”
The undead studied him.
Then smiled.
“Fine.”
Momonga turned toward the silver-haired woman.
“And you?”
She looked at the empty throne.
“I have nowhere else to go.”
“Then come with us.”
Her eyes widened.
“You’re taking me?”
Momonga nodded.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you have information.”
She smiled.
“Of course.”
Momonga paused.
“And because I don’t like leaving people behind.”
For a moment, she said nothing.
Then she bowed.
“Thank you.”
Nabe looked at Momonga.
“You’ve collected another companion.”
Momonga sighed.
“It seems to be becoming a habit.”
Evileye crossed her arms.
“At this rate we’ll need a carriage.”
The masked undead laughed.
“Perhaps a guild hall.”
Momonga looked at him.
“Don’t.”
“Why?”
“I’ve had enough guilds for one lifetime.”
They began walking.
The journey out of the dungeon was surprisingly peaceful.
The guardians no longer attacked them.
The ancient doors opened automatically.
Even the traps had been deactivated.
The tomb seemed to accept their departure.
That worried Momonga.
Too much.
When they finally reached the surface, dawn was breaking.
The Katze Plains were covered in pale mist.
Momonga stopped.
The fresh air felt strange after the underground complex.
Evileye looked toward the horizon.
“So what now?”
Momonga thought.
“We find the player.”
The masked undead shook his head.
“That’s impossible.”
Momonga looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because you don’t know his name.”
“We have the guild emblem.”
“That isn’t enough.”
“The tomb knows him.”
“Yes.”
“Then the tomb can tell us.”
The undead smiled.
“You didn’t understand the last message.”
Momonga frowned.
“What?”
“The tomb doesn’t know where he is.”
“It said his status was unknown.”
“Exactly.”
Momonga became silent.
The silver-haired woman spoke.
“Then we need another method.”
Nabe looked at Momonga.
“Where would a player hide?”
Momonga considered it.
“Somewhere difficult to reach.”
“Like the Great Tomb.”
“Yes.”
“Then perhaps we should search for other ruins.”
Momonga nodded.
“That’s what I was thinking.”
Evileye looked at him.
“You’re assuming there are more.”
“There are.”
“How do you know?”
Momonga looked at the Katze Plains.
“Because players didn’t appear only once.”
He paused.
“The history of this world proves that.”
Evileye became serious.
“The Eight Greed Kings.”
“Others.”
“Yes.”
Momonga looked toward the west.
“If this player has survived for two hundred years, he may not be the only one.”
The masked undead smiled.
“Now you’re thinking like a player.”
Momonga looked at him.
“No.”
He shook his head.
“I’m thinking like an adventurer.”
The undead laughed.
“Even better.”
They returned toward the nearest settlement.
Along the way, the silver-haired woman introduced herself.
“My name is Nariel.”
Momonga looked at her.
“You remembered?”
“No.”
She touched her chest.
“I chose it.”
Nabe smiled.
“That’s better.”
Nariel looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because it belongs to you.”
Nariel stared at Nabe for a moment.
Then smiled.
“I like you.”
Momonga sighed.
“She’s difficult.”
Nabe looked at him.
“I heard that.”
Evileye laughed.
The masked undead shook his head.
“I haven’t heard people laugh like this in a very long time.”
Momonga looked at him.
“Then perhaps you should get used to it.”
The undead became silent.
After a moment, he said:
“Perhaps.”
They reached the settlement shortly before noon.
People stared.
An undead adventurer.
A masked undead.
A vampire-looking magic caster.
A strange silver-haired woman.
And Nabe.
It was not exactly a normal group.
Momonga ignored the looks.
They found an inn.
Once inside, they gathered around a table.
Momonga placed the guild emblem in the center.
“Let’s start with what we know.”
Evileye leaned forward.
“Two hundred years ago, a player created the guild beneath the Katze Plains.”
Nariel nodded.
“He brought NPCs with him.”
“Some survived.”
“Yes.”
“The guild fought other players.”
“Yes.”
“The player disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“The tomb waited.”
“Yes.”
“And now the system says he’s alive.”
The masked undead corrected him.
“Possibly.”
Momonga looked at him.
“Fine.”
He pointed toward the emblem.
“What else?”
The undead stared at it.
“The emblem belonged to the guild.”
“What was the guild called?”
Silence.
Nariel shook her head.
“I don’t remember.”
The undead sighed.
“Neither do I.”
Momonga frowned.
“Why?”
“Because the name was erased.”
“By whom?”
“The Master.”
“Again?”
“Yes.”
Momonga leaned back.
This was becoming frustrating.
“What can you remember?”
The undead thought.
“Seven members.”
Momonga’s eyes narrowed.
“Only seven players?”
“Seven founders.”
“And the NPCs?”
“Many.”
“Why erase the guild name?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you remember their classes?”
“Some.”
“Names?”
“No.”
“World-Class Items?”
The undead hesitated.
“One.”
Momonga became very interested.
“Which one?”
“The item that protected the guild.”
“The one controlling the throne?”
“Yes.”
“What was it?”
“A ring.”
Momonga froze.
“A ring?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know where it is?”
The undead smiled.
“Yes.”
Momonga leaned forward.
“Where?”
The undead pointed toward the north.
“With the Master.”
Silence.
Momonga stared at him.
“You’re saying the player still has the World-Class Item.”
“Yes.”
“Then he’s dangerous.”
“Extremely.”
“How dangerous?”
The undead smiled.
“Enough that even the Dragon Lords avoided him.”
Evileye’s expression changed.
“The Dragon Lords?”
“Yes.”
Momonga looked at her.
“What do you know about them?”
Evileye hesitated.
“Some are among the strongest beings in this world.”
“Could they defeat a player?”
“Some might.”
Momonga thought about it.
The masked undead interrupted.
“Not this one.”
Momonga looked at him.
“You’re certain?”
“I watched him fight.”
“Against a Dragon Lord?”
“Against three.”
Everyone became silent.
“And?”
The undead smiled.
“He won.”
Momonga’s expression became serious.
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why are you smiling?”
“Because if he were truly evil…”
The undead leaned back.
“…we wouldn’t be alive.”
Momonga considered that.
“So you believe he isn’t hostile.”
“No.”
The undead shook his head.
“I believe he has his own purpose.”
“What purpose?”
“Finding his guild.”
Momonga froze.
“His guild?”
“The survivors.”
Momonga looked toward Nariel.
She lowered her eyes.
The masked undead continued.
“He has been searching for centuries.”
Momonga slowly understood.
The player wasn’t hiding.
He was searching.
For his NPCs.
For his guild.
For the people he had lost.
Momonga looked at Nabe.
If he had been separated from her…
he would do the same.
Perhaps that was why this story felt so familiar.
The same loneliness.
The same impossible search.
The same hope that someone might still be waiting.
Momonga stood.
“We’re going north.”
Evileye sighed.
“Of course we are.”
Nabe stood beside him.
“Why north?”
Momonga picked up the emblem.
“Because that’s where he is.”
The masked undead smiled.
“You believe me?”
“No.”
The undead laughed.
“Good.”
Momonga looked toward the door.
“But it’s the best lead we have.”
They left the inn.
The road north stretched toward the horizon.
None of them noticed the figure standing on a distant rooftop.
A black cloak.
Silver hair.
A familiar golden ring around one finger.
The figure watched them depart.
Then smiled.
“So…”
A quiet voice whispered into the wind.
“He finally found them.”
The figure turned away.
And disappeared.
Far to the north, an ancient magical circle activated.
A message appeared.
SUPREME BEING DETECTED.
The figure looked at it.
Then laughed.
“No.”
The message changed.
MOMONGA DETECTED.
The figure’s smile disappeared.
“That’s impossible.”
The circle went dark.
And for the first time in two hundred years…
the lost player became afraid.