The great tomb of Nazarick—once the pride of the guild Ainz Ooal Gown—sat in perfect, solemn silence. At its deepest chamber, the Overlord himself rested upon the throne, the faint red flames in his empty eye sockets wavering with a strangely fragile glow.
This is the end, huh…
The thought drifted through Momonga's mind like a sigh.
The DMMO-RPG Yggdrasil, a world he had devoted twelve years of his life to—his money, his youth, his every precious hour—was finally approaching its shutdown. Less than five minutes remained before everything he cherished simply vanished.
Beside him stood a lovely woman with silky black hair, ornate armor, and wings folded neatly at her back: Albedo, an NPC created by his comrade Tabula Smaragdina. Her face, fixed in its default serene smile, watched him with lifeless devotion.
Momonga exhaled bitterly.
A small prank—changing her personality setting from "bitch" to "in love with Momonga"—had provided no comfort at all.
What he really wanted was someone to scold him.
"Hey, don't edit Albedo without permission!"
Just one last friendly punchline from any guildmate… but none had come.
He had gathered every NPC in the throne room hoping not to face the end alone. Yet they were only empty data, incapable of understanding him. In the end, he would greet Yggdrasil's final moment entirely by himself.
He checked the console. Less than a minute left.
"Tomorrow's another workday… Might as well sleep the moment I shut down," he muttered.
Twelve years of joy had led to this moment of silence.
He sank deeper into the throne, waiting for the world to end.
Then—
"…Huh?"
A storm of question marks seemed to erupt above his skull.
He had stayed here. He had been sitting on the throne right up until the service ended. That was how it should have gone.
But—
"…What?"
He found himself speechless.
A forest stretched before him.
A real forest—lush, bright, alive. Sunlight filtered softly through dense leaves. A warm breeze brushed across his cheek, carrying the scent of earth and greenery.
Everything felt real.
No—the moment he thought so, he shook his head violently.
Impossible.
Earth's environment was polluted beyond recognition. Nobody could walk outside without a special mask. A place like this could not exist in Japan, or anywhere he knew.
Was this… a dream?
But there were things even a full-dive VR world couldn't simulate.
The smell of soil.
The taste of the air.
The vivid, unmistakable presence of life all around him.
These sensations were real.
Not virtual.
To test it, Momonga plucked a blade of grass and chewed it.
"…Ugh."
A raw, bitter, green taste spread across his tongue.
He immediately regretted the experiment—but the conclusion was undeniable.
This wasn't texture data.
This was a real, physical plant.
This place was not Yggdrasil.
This was actual reality.
Could this… truly be reality?
Momonga's heart pounded.
His thoughts accelerated, racing faster than his human brain ever allowed. Almost as if the dull mind of Suzuki Satoru had been replaced by a genius-level processor.
And then—
He looked down at himself.
This… this is Albedo's body.
His gaze traced the shape of a voluptuous chest—one he certainly didn't possess. The soft, porcelain-pale shoulders revealed by the sleeveless dress. The elegant gloves encasing slender fingers.
Exactly the same immaculate white dress Albedo wore in the throne room.
He lifted a hand to one horn. He brushed a wing. They all moved—and felt—like parts of his own flesh.
He was not Suzuki Satoru.
He was not Momonga the Overlord.
He had become Albedo.
No illusion.
No avatar.
A living body.
A body with blood, nerves, and sensation.
"…What the hell…?"
Momonga's knees threatened to buckle.
He dropped onto a nearby stump, trying to steady himself.
Too much made no sense.
But one thing was certain:
If this body was from Yggdrasil… he had to test something.
He closed his eyes and reached inward.
And he felt it.
His inventory.
His list of skills and classes.
His spell list—cooldowns included.
The massive reservoir of mana flowing through him.
I… I can feel it. All of it. Clearly.
This was no avatar.
This was a fusion.
Momonga's stats—
combined with Albedo's stats.
Together.
The result—
"…H-Hold on. What… what is this?"
It was absurd.
Terrifying.
Ludicrous.
His total level was 200.
All skills from both builds.
All resistances.
All passives.
All spells.
All physical strength.
A full tank and a full necromancer.
In one body.
A walking impossibility.
Not even World Champions would stand a chance.
"…This is broken. Completely broken."
His beautiful voice trembled slightly in awe.
But something vital was missing.
His enormous hoard of cash-shop items.
The World Items stored in Nazarick's depths.
The treasures of the vault.
All gone.
Only two items remained:
Ginnungagap — Momonga's own World Item.
True Nothingness — inexplicably stored on Albedo.
"…Tabula-san… did you give this to her before logging off?"
He placed a hand over his chest.
"I promise… I won't let anything happen to this body you created."
His golden eyes hardened with resolve.
Then he summoned a mirror from his inventory.
And froze.
A breathtaking beauty stared back.
Golden, slit-pupil eyes.
Velvet-black hair cascading to her waist.
Silent perfection sculpted into flesh.
A goddess.
A sculpture.
A sin.
"…Incredible."
Mesmerized by the face reflected there—his own now—Momonga whispered something impulsively:
"Suzuki Satoru-sama… I, Albedo, adore you."
Silence.
Then the reflection's cheeks turned scarlet.
Momonga's own face burned with shame as he hurled the mirror away.
"W—W—What am I doing!? I'm insane! Sorry, Tabula-san!! I'm so sorry!!"
The beautiful woman doubled over, clutching her flushed face in both hands, writhing in mortified agony.
After several minutes, his breathing steadied.
Right. Focus. Priorities.
He was alone.
In another world.
In Albedo's body.
What should he do?
A faint sound stirred the air.
"…Hm?"
Shouting.
Screams.
Violence.
Momonga spread his black wings, taking to a high branch before casting:
Remote Viewing.
Light flooded his vision as a new pair of magical eyes formed and flew toward the noise.
Good. Magic still works.
The magic showed him:
Two young girls fleeing for their lives.
Two armored knights pursuing them with drawn swords.
…They're not bandits. They're organized.
The younger girl tripped.
Her sister covered her with trembling arms as the knights closed in.
Momonga clicked his tongue.
He didn't feel fear.
Or panic.
Or righteous fury.
Only the faint pity someone might feel watching a snake corner a mouse.
"I shouldn't get involved," he murmured.
He knew nothing about this world.
Those knights might be the equivalent of level 100 players.
He couldn't risk exposing himself recklessly.
"…Sorry."
He turned away.
A sword was raised—
A flash of white armor filled his mind.
A memory.
A friend.
A voice:
"If someone's in trouble, you help them. That's obvious."
He swallowed.
"Touch-san… I owe you one."
Golden eyes hardened.
He cast:
Gate.
A dark portal tore open before him.
"…First encounter. Let's see how this world handles me."
And Momonga—
no, Albedo—
stepped through.