An oval of obsidian materialized in the center of Carne Village's square. It seemed endlessly deep, like an abyss, yet it was no thicker than a string of darkness. From within that void emerged a figure clad in full black plate armor, its appearance reminiscent of a demon. Jagged spikes jutted from the armor, and two curved horns protruded from the helmet.
The figure's clawed gauntlets gripped a sickly green bardiche in one hand, while the other held a staff roughly forty-five centimeters long, crowned with a hovering black sphere that pulsed ominously.
Lucian watched as the fully armored dark knight shuddered upon meeting his gaze. For a brief moment, Lucian felt a strange familiarity—an unsettling sense of eyes lingering on him—before it vanished. The knight said nothing, merely stepping aside to stand guard by the Gate.
This time, however, a butler emerged. He was the picture of refinement, dressed in a crisp black tailcoat—the kind of butler one might instinctively name Sebastian. His eyes, sharp and calculating, locked onto Lucian. Unlike the fleeting stare from before, this gaze carried something else—something distinctly hostile.
"Hmm…" A smirk tugged at Lucian's lips, unbidden.
And after that, their lord appeared—a skeletal being draped in a dark gown that seemed to touch the ground yet never grew dirty. The skull bore two eye sockets, each burning with crimson sparks, like the first flame of a kindled bonfire.
Momonga walked forward, moving away from the Gate as another procession of servants emerged behind him.
Lucian watched as more figures stepped out before the Gate finally closed, its time running out.
At that moment, when Lucian first looked to the sky, he had only assumed it was another player using the Mirror of Remote Viewing. But when he spoke, saying he could see them, he unexpectedly received a message, one that connected him to another player.
And one he knew quite well. A friend of his- Momonga. He was stunned to discover that Nazarick, too, had been transported to this new world.
At first, he half-hoped that maybe Mizuki was in Nazarick—that perhaps she was with Momonga—so he asked Momonga hurriedly. But he soon learned that wasn't the case. Mizuki hadn't even shown her face one last time to Momonga. His voice had sounded forlorn in that instant, eerily reminiscent of Lucian's tone just before the closing of Yggdrasil.
Lucian didn't speak much with Momonga after that, as they had already decided to meet in the village. After all, Lucian wasn't about to visit Nazarick—Momonga hadn't given him any kind of address, nor did it seem like he welcomed Lucian there. And that was fair. This world was real now, and every action had to be taken with the utmost caution, lest they do something irreversible.
Lucian had already reassured the worried villagers by telling them he was merely a traveler from a distant land who happened to pass by and lend his aid, asking for nothing in return. Thanks to Lucian's unimaginable charisma, they believed him—thankfully. The village chief had even wept openly, crying his eyes out as he expressed his gratitude.
But now, fear once again gripped the villagers. A skeleton—a literal undead—had appeared from nowhere. Though they could not see Momonga's skeletal body beneath the dark robes, they could feel the malicious presence radiating from him.
"Mommy! I'm afraid!" a small girl cried, clutching her mother tightly. The woman, trembling with the same fear, could only hold her child closer as Momonga's sinister aura pressed down on them.
"It'll be okay…" she whispered, though even she didn't know if her words were true.
"Momonga…" Lucian muttered, now standing face-to-face with him. Behind Momonga, his entourage of NPCs lined up in perfect order. Lucian didn't quite understand why he had to bring so many along, but he neither minded nor cared—it was inconsequential to him. Numbers were… nothing.
"Lucian." Momonga's voice rumbled as he looked at him. For an undead, the sight before him was almost blinding. Lucian's beauty struck him so deeply that, for a moment, it was like seeing Albedo for the first time. He found himself gasping, stunned into silence for a few seconds.
"Momonga," Lucian said as he stepped closer. Momonga clutched the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown tightly in his hand.
"Can you turn your passive off?" Lucian asked with a wary smile, gesturing toward the terrified villagers hiding in their homes or weeping as they prepared for burials. "You're scaring them."
Momonga immediately realized his mistake and shut his passives off at once. It seemed he had unconsciously activated them all in response to the overwhelming pressure radiating from Lucian's presence.
'Ahhh, how embarrassing! I'm not giving him a good first impression at all!' Momonga shouted inwardly, flustered—until the emotional dampener of his undead nature kicked in, forcing him to calm down.
"Apologies, Lucian," Momonga said in a dignified voice—completely different from the one he had used back in the game. Lucian immediately noticed the stiffness in both his words and posture.
"Let's talk in private," Lucian said, snapping his fingers as a [Gate] materialized behind them.
Momonga hesitated for a moment, wary because he didn't know where the gate led.
"Don't worry, it just leads to the outskirts of the village. If you don't trust me, you can open a [Gate] yourself instead. I'll follow you," Lucian reassured him.
"No, it's fine. I trust you," Momonga replied. After all, Lucian didn't seem to have changed. His voice—sickeningly sweet, divine, almost intoxicatingly musical—was different, yes, but at the core, he was still Lucian. Momonga could feel it.
"Momonga-sama! May I implore you to take at least one of the Floor Guardians with you!" It was Sebas who objected to Momonga's decision.
Lucian's eyes finally wandered to the butler standing behind Momonga. Sebas's gaze had been fixed on him for some time—watchful, sharp, as if expecting Lucian to strike at any moment. Strangely, Lucian couldn't even recall this man from the times he had visited Ainz Ooal Gown.
Lucian turned his attention back to Momonga, curious how he would respond.
Momonga simply waved his hand, his burning crimson eyes narrowing as he looked down at Sebas. "No need. I trust my friend. Or do you believe your judgment of my friend surpasses mine?"
The crimson sparks in his eye sockets flickered with an eerie intensity.
Sebas immediately bowed his head. "I'm truly sorry, Momonga-sama! I am willing to accept any punishment for my insolence." His voice carried genuine remorse.
Lucian merely observed in silence, his gaze flickering between the two figures.
The dark knight in full body armour stood beside a pretty loli in red full-body armour that looked like a gown, with a lance attached to it. Her eyes… for some reason, her eyes were eating him up.
Lucian knew he was beautiful—his own servants were proof that even powerful beings couldn't resist his charm—but that was attributed to their settings being made that way. He didn't remember having any kind of powerful charm that worked passively, capable of charming anyone.
Weird… he thought, before stepping toward the [Gate], which, despite its time having expired, had not vanished. A perk of [Arcane's Muse].
Before leaving through the gate, Lucian told Shiraori:
"Stand by and gather information from the villagers and the knights."
His eyes glowed faintly green as he said this, his head tilting slightly…
"Is something wrong, Master?" Shiraori asked immediately, her face filled with worry.
"No, nothing. Just thinking about something," Lucian replied before finally stepping through the [Gate].
Momonga followed, the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown in his hand, and vanished as well. The gate then closed immediately, leaving behind a terrified village—and a lady in white surrounded by the servants of death.
Lucian and Momonga emerged from the [Gate] into the dense forest. With a snap of Lucian's fingers, layers of defensive and anti-scrying spells were instantly multi-cast. Momonga's boneless face showed no expression, but inside, he was panicking.
'How can he cast without words?! Instant-cast too—and multiple spells at that?! Isn't that way too overpowered?!'
"It seems you're having a hard time," Lucian said with a wry smile, his gaze fixed on Momonga. Though the skeletal face betrayed nothing, Lucian's passive skill, [Perceived Pain], revealed the truth. Momonga's aura at that moment was steeped in worry and unease, less physical pain, and more like the turmoil of a troubled mind.
"Hm… Lucian, it's been three days since the NPCs came to life, and it's so much harder to manage them than I thought." Momonga wasn't hiding anything as he followed Lucian. They rounded a tree, and Lucian leaned against the trunk. Momonga did the same, finally letting his monarch persona slip away, feeling almost human again despite being an Overlord.
"They think I'm their supreme master," Momonga admitted, audibly sighing—despite lacking lungs. "They expect me to be this almighty being… when in reality, I'm just some office worker." He looked up at the sky, the image of the Supreme Being replaced by that of a troubled friend.
"Well, it's the same here. Although, it seems you're having a much harder time. I guess I'm somewhat used to it because of my IRL life," Lucian said, trying to comfort him. He knew his words carried little weight—perhaps none at all—but even so, he would help his friend.
"They act just like their creators," Momonga said. Though no smile could be seen on his skeletal face, Lucian could almost envision a weary office worker standing there instead of the Overlord.
"Shalltear loves to bicker with Aura. They're like mirror images of Peroroncino and Bukubukuchagama-san." Momonga nearly giggled, the sound strange and heavy in his deep, undead voice, which made Lucian laugh.
"Yeah, I can imagine that," Lucian replied. He had visited Nazarick a few times after everyone had left the guild in Momonga's care. In fact, he and Momonga had spent a lot of time playing together… bonding more than they ever had during their days in Nine's Own Goal.
"It's tiring, you know," Momonga said, shaking his head as he finally let out a frustrated voice. "I don't understand. They're all loyal to me and to Nazarick, but sometimes… they scare me. It's like I'm walking on eggshells."
"Why's that? I think the NPCs' personalities come from their flavor texts. Considering your guildmates, I'm sure each of them was eccentric in their own way. But I think all of them are loyal," Lucian said.
"I don't question their loyalty. It's more about me—I don't understand why they're so loyal. I feel bad for them. It's those flavor texts that make them feel human… but at the same time, bind them to eternal loyalty." Momonga replied.
"Don't worry, man. It's fine to just enjoy it, anyway," Lucian said as he extended his hand.
"If you're here, that means there must—no, there will probably be—other players in this world too. So what do you say? Shall we form an alliance?" Lucian asked with a bewitching smile that nearly stole the breath of Momonga, an undead Overlord who wasn't even supposed to feel such emotions. That was how beautiful he was.
"I was going to say the same. It'll be great to have the Caster of Death as my ally," Momonga said with a laugh as he extended his long, bony hand. Lucian smiled and reached out, his slender, elegant hand meeting Momonga's in a firm shake.
The two of them continued talking for over an hour, sharing their experiences—their initial shock, the way their spells functioned, and all the strange details of their new reality.
"Well, we should head back, or my servant will probably come looking for me," Lucian said as he prepared to cast a spell—before suddenly remembering something.
"Also, not to be rude, dude, but Momo-kun… you should wear a mask and some gloves. I used illusion spells to keep the villagers' senses in check earlier, but I can't keep doing that every time you're here. So, could you handle that?"
Momonga considered his words carefully. It was a reasonable request. With a small nod, he produced a mask from his inventory.
"Is that the Mask of Jealousy? Damn, dude! I never managed to get one since I wasn't logged in at the time. It's one of the few items I still don't have—it wasn't even being sold afterward," Lucian said as he watched Momonga put it on.
Momonga let out a deep laugh. "Hahaha, I know, right? We expected something amazing, but all we got for logging in on Christmas was this mask with no special effects."
Lucian smirked. "Still, that's a pretty sick-looking mask."
This time, Momonga cast [Gate] himself and stepped through first. Lucian followed close behind—yet as he did, his eyes glowed with a faint, subtle green…
'Why ally yourself with such a lowly lich, my beloved?'
It was Euphemia's voice echoing in Lucian's mind. She had forged this connection back in the office when he was sitting with Meimei and Shiraori—but until now, Lucian had chosen to ignore her constant commentary on everything. He had treated her as if she didn't even exist. Only now did he finally decide to reply.
'Can you feel his emotions? He still doesn't trust me,' Lucian murmured inwardly. Thanks to his [Voracity of Emotion] skill, born from his Sin of Lust job class, he could sense the emotions of others toward him with unsettling clarity. And right now, he could feel it—Momonga, though treating him as a friend, still didn't fully trust him.
'Of course, my beloved. You are gracing your kindness upon the wrong person. He is not deserving of it,' Euphemia's voice cooed in his mind.
'Who is worthy of my kindness and who is not—that is for me to decide, not you,' Lucian's inner voice turned sharp, cutting through her words. For a moment, he could have sworn he heard a soft moan slip from Euphemia's side of the link.
'Of course, my beloved…' her tone shifted, melting into something sickeningly sweet, honey laced with poison. 'Their fate, our fate, this world's fate…' Her voice lingered like silk across his thoughts before finishing in a whisper dripping with unadulterated devotion: '…it's all for you to decide, my love.'
****
Lucian and Momonga now sat in front of the village chief inside his home. From the inside, it was immediately apparent that the village wasn't doing very well. Or perhaps it was simply that this world was so backward that, to Lucian, the house looked more like a hut than a proper home. The air smelled faintly of smoke and damp earth, and the place reeked of poverty.
"Once again, thank you very much, Lucian-sama. We are forever grateful and indebted to you–truly. We cannot thank you enough," the village chief said, tears of relief streaming down his weathered face.
Despite the number of villagers who had perished, he still felt a strange sense of relief. At least they had been saved—at least some of them survived.
The village chief was a dark-skinned, muscular man, his body covered in deep wrinkles. He was probably middle-aged, but the harsh environment and years of hardship had made him look far older than he likely was.
"No, it's fine, really. It's only natural to help others when they are in need," Lucian said with a casual wave of his hand. "Besides, I found something interesting in this village—something that caught my interest."
He didn't particularly care for the villagers' thanks or gratitude. To him, they were inconsequential. What mattered right now was information—something both he and Momonga needed.
"This here is my friend, Momonga," Lucian continued, gesturing toward the skeletal figure beside him. "I trust you won't mind his presence here."
Momonga inclined his head slightly before speaking in his calm, dignified tone. "I am Momonga, guild master of Ainz Ooal Gown. It is an honor to meet you, Village Chief-dono."
"No, no, no! The honor is ours, Momonga-sama!" the village chief said, bowing deeply. "A friend of Lucian-sama is a friend of ours! We will do our best to host such esteemed magic casters."
At that moment, his wife entered the room. She was a slim, middle-aged woman, looking about the same age as her husband. Wrinkles lined her face, and though age had taken much of her youthful beauty, it was clear that she must have been quite attractive in her younger days.
In her hands, she carried a wooden tray with several small clay mugs. Inside them was warm water sweetened with honey gathered from the nearby forests. Hunters occasionally brought back honey during their hunts, and the village chief's wife usually saved it for when someone was sick—honey was known for its many healing properties. Today, however, she had mixed it into warm water as it was the very best drink they could offer their saviors.
"Ah, thank you," Lucian said with a soft smile as the village chief's wife stepped forward and held the tray out to him. The mugs were small, barely holding a few gulps each, but Lucian didn't mind as he took one.
As he accepted the drink, his hand lightly brushed against the woman's fingers. Her name was Rina, and to everyone's surprise, an unseemly blush spread across her face. The reaction did not go unnoticed by Momonga or the village chief—but neither of them said anything. After all, they too might have reacted the same way. Lucian's beauty was simply that devastating.
"Ah, he doesn't need one. My friend is fasting right now—magical reasons," Lucian said smoothly as he picked up the other cup and gently pushed it toward her.
"You should drink it instead," he added, smiling. "You look tired, ma'am. I could see how out of breath you were after those ten minutes trying to get the fire going with flint stones. It would feel rude for me to be the only one drinking."
Lucian's warm, almost dazzling smile left the village chief's wife momentarily stunned. After a brief hesitation, she accepted the cup, sat down beside her husband, and took a sip. Her cheeks flushed red and her eyes grew faintly glazed, as though she were fighting to keep her composure.
"To be honest, Village Chief, we are new to this area," Lucian said, his tone calm yet open. "I'm from a distant country… in truth, I'm a runaway prince. But I'd prefer if you didn't tell anyone. I had too much talent for my own good, and my siblings attempted to assassinate me. That's why I left those political disputes behind and came to this country.
"We used magical equipment to travel here, so we barely know the lay of the land. It would be an enormous help if you could tell us about the neighboring towns, villages, cities, and countries."
Lucian spoke with an effortless smile, then lifted the clay mug and took a sip of the honeyed water. The simple act made the village chief's wife soften even more. She had expected a noble—let alone someone dressed as extravagantly as a king—to refuse such a humble drink. The fact that Lucian not only accepted but drank from a filthy villager's cup made her feel as though he was truly benevolent, unlike the other nobles or royals who would likely punish them for daring to serve such a thing.
"Of course, Lucian-sama!" the village chief said, puffing out his chest with pride. "You are our savior, and our village will do everything in our power to help you. As for your question, we can begin right away."
With that, Lucian and Momonga began asking about the surrounding region—towns, villages, cities, and the countries nearby—as the chief provided every bit of information he could.
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