The gates of Rosalith loomed in the distance, their towering stone spires catching the waning light of the afternoon sun. Soldiers in crimson Rosarian armor manned the battlements, their silhouettes framed against the cloud-dappled sky. The road that led to the city was smooth and wide—fit for nobles and trade alike—but the closer they drew, the more alive everything became.
Children darted through the alleys of roadside villages. Peddlers shouted prices in heavy Rosarian dialect, hawking everything from dried fruits to gleaming brass trinkets. The scent of roasting boar and spiced potatoes hung in the air, twisting Alex's stomach into a gentle growl.
So real… too real. Is this still a dream?He shifted inside the well-cushioned cart, his silver hair catching flickers of sunlight through the half-curtained window. The pendant on his chest—a dull obsidian set in platinum—felt strangely warm.
Outside, the caravan slowed. Two mounted knights wearing sigils foreign to Rosaria rode beside Alex's cart—soldiers from his supposed homeland. Behind them, a smaller wagon carried a chest of goods bearing his "family's" crest. A noble heir being fostered to Rosaria… That's the story, right? It felt surreal, but he played along, keeping his expression measured.
The cart came to a halt just before the outer gates.
"Open the gates! Escort from the Eastern Kingdom of Eldurain, bearing the heir to House Maelor!" shouted the commander, his armor scratched from travel but still gleaming. The gatekeepers exchanged looks, then began pulling the heavy wooden beams aside with practiced efficiency.
The carriage rolled forward slowly. Beyond the gate, Rosalith unfolded like a tapestry: cobbled streets, low terraced rooftops, bustling markets, and the spire of Phoenix Gate rising faintly in the distance.
Alex leaned slightly forward, absorbing everything. It's exactly as I remember from the game… even the way the streets curve… the way the light falls through those arches…A chill ran up his spine. He had played Final Fantasy XVI before. Many times. He knew this place. Not just as a setting—but as a world.
This is real.This is Final Fantasy XVI.
He held his breath. The realization struck harder than the initial confusion of waking up in this world. All of the rumors, the betrayals, the tragedy of Clive, of Jill, of Joshua... they weren't just storylines now—they were people. Lives. Fates he was about to live among.
The cart finally came to a stop inside the main plaza.
Sir Thelen, one of his personal guards, stepped down first. "We'll announce you, my lord," he said respectfully, adjusting the clasp of his sword belt. Then, with practiced formality, he opened the door. "Prince Alex Maelor of Eldurain, heir of House Maelor and ward of Rosaria."
Alex stepped down.
He stood tall, his lean yet strong figure dressed in elegant black and crimson robes—a custom outfit styled faintly like the regal ensemble of Ainz Ooal Gown, but reworked to suit the aesthetics of Valisthea. Intricate silver trim adorned the sleeves, and his pendant rested plainly over his heart.
All eyes in the plaza turned.
A mix of nobles, merchants, and passing guards noted him curiously—his silver hair and crimson eyes stood out starkly. A few whispered, but no one approached just yet.
Then, from across the courtyard, a voice rang clear.
"Prince Alex?"
Lady Anabella Rosfield stood flanked by two household guards, her golden hair perfectly pinned, her gown bearing the sigil of House Rosfield. Her gaze locked onto the pendant at his chest—and softened with recognition.
"I see... So you are the son of Maelor." She stepped closer. "That pendant… I've seen it before. Decades ago."
Alex hesitated. He opened his mouth—and realized he wasn't sure what to say. He didn't know the story of House Maelor. He had no idea who he was supposed to be. What would Ainz do in this situation?
He bowed slightly, voice calm. "Forgive me, my lady… I've had trouble remembering much since the journey began. I believe I may be suffering from some form of… memory loss."
Anabella tilted her head. "I suspected as much. You wear your blood with grace—but your eyes are unfamiliar with this place."
Smooth.
She turned to her steward. "See that Prince Alex is shown to the west wing. Prepare the guest chambers—no, the noble wing. And send word to Lord Elwin that his ward has arrived."
"Yes, Lady Rosfield."
As servants bustled to carry out her orders, Anabella leaned closer.
"Rest, Prince Alex. You're safe in Rosaria now. Whatever misfortune befell you in Eldurain, it will not follow you here."
Alex bowed once more. "Your kindness honors me."
So this is Clive's mother, he thought as she turned away. Colder than I imagined… but sharp. Calculating.
The guards led him toward the inner keep, past flower gardens, iron lanterns, and finely trimmed hedges. As he walked, Alex caught reflections of himself in the polished stone and glass windows. He barely recognized the face staring back—regal, powerful... otherworldly.
Stats.The thought came unbidden. Like muscle memory.
He glanced around—no one watching too closely. He focused inward, not expecting anything…
—And a glowing blue panel unfolded before his eyes. Invisible to others. A translucent interface only he could see.
NAME: Alex Maelor
RACE: Overlord (Undead),Human
LEVEL: 100
Class: Magic Caster (Eclipse Lord)Level: 100HP: ∞MP: ∞Attributes:STR: 75 | AGI: 90 | INT: 500 | DEX: 80 | VIT: 300 | RES: ∞
Spells Available:Basic-tier Necromancy (locked)Summon Undead I (locked)Time Stop (locked)Greater Teleportation (locked)Inventory – accessible
His mouth dried slightly.
The very air around him responded to the pulse of energy he now noticed within himself. A thrum of impossible power sat quietly at his core, suppressed only because he willed it so.
And yet he had no memory of how he got here. Just flashes. Subway stairs. A sharp fall. Then darkness.
And now… this.
He blinked, letting the screen fade from view.
End of Part 2.