章 5: New World I
It had been years since I first started playing Yggdrasil, but the memories of endless grinding and strategizing still felt fresh in my mind. I had poured days, weeks, months—hell, even years—into this game, perfecting my character, pushing every boundary to achieve a level of power and satisfaction that seemed almost impossible. All those sleepless nights, the countless battles, and the quiet moments of strategy had finally culminated in this one inevitable event: the server shutdown.
I retracted the holographic image of my character stats in front of me with a sigh, my eyes scanning the display one last time. There it was—Hyperion, or "Hyper" as the guild called me—standing tall and proud, decked out in gear I'd spent an eternity collecting. Every stat, every piece of equipment meticulously acquired through tireless effort. Now, it all felt meaningless.
I glanced across the table at Momonga, who was visibly upset. His skeletal fist pounded against the massive stone surface with a crack, reverberating through the room before he immediately composed himself.
"Everyone's busy with their jobs and lives…" he muttered, more to himself than to me, his glowing red eyes dimming slightly. "No one's here except us, Hyper. Just you and me."
I nodded in silence. The others hadn't shown up for this final moment. Not Herohero, not Ulbert, not Tabula or Touch Me—none of the old crew that had built this guild with us. It was just the two of us left to witness the end.
Herohero had briefly logged in earlier. We had a short conversation with him about the current state of the guild and Nazarick. He thanked us, saying how grateful he was that we all enjoyed the game to its fullest. He had a melancholic tone, and I could see Momonga about to suggest he stay until the very end. But before he could, Herohero logged out, leaving Momonga's words hanging in the air, unheard.
The room felt heavier after that, with only the silence of Nazarick to fill the void left behind. Momonga, still gazing at the spot where Herohero had disappeared, stood up slowly and turned to me.
"Why don't we go to the throne room one last time, Hyper?" he asked, his voice filled with resignation but also a hint of nostalgia. He looked at me, and I could see the sadness in his skeletal features, though his avatar didn't allow for much expression.
I stood up, though my face mirrored his sadness. While Momonga was crushed by the shutdown of the game—our digital home—I, in contrast, felt an overwhelming sense of relief. The hellish wait for the inevitable was almost over.
There would be no more grinding, no more endless striving for power that felt out of reach no matter how much I accomplished. It was a strange feeling, knowing that soon, there would be no more items to chase.
As we walked together, the sound of our footsteps echoed through the cold, cavernous halls of Nazarick. Sebas, ever-loyal, followed us, along with the Pleiades. The NPCs—characters we had created and programmed with so much care—trailed behind us as we made our way to the throne room.
As we approached the throne room, the massive doors—crafted from the hardest stone mined from the depths of Helheim—groaned as they slowly opened for us. Their heavy weight was apparent in the deep, grinding sound they made, almost like a last lament for what was about to be lost.
Inside the throne room, 42 flags hung from the ceiling, each representing a member of the guild. Beneath each flag was a corresponding throne, designed with elegance and nobility, a tribute to the individuality of every Supreme Being who once called Nazarick home. But now, only two of those thrones mattered.
In the center of the room stood the largest throne of all, the one reserved for the guild master. Momonga's throne was a masterpiece of gothic design, its towering structure emblazoned with the guild's emblem hanging from above.
Beside it, however, was another throne—mine. It stood in stark contrast to the others, emanating a horrifying aura of darkness. It was made from the black bones of Garlock, the Devourer of Worlds, a terrifying monster I had personally defeated in one of our most grueling raids.
Ulbert had designed this throne for me, insisting that I, of all people, should sit upon it. He had always been obsessed with role-playing, and in his eyes, I was the epitome of a cold, calculating Vampire Lord— he insisted that I use this throne, claiming it suited my character's dark, vampiric persona.
I walked toward the throne, feeling the familiar pull of power that surrounded it. The violet banner bearing my symbol, a demonic bat in flight, its eyes gleaming with malice, hung above the chair, swaying slightly in an unseen breeze.
As I approached, shadowy tendrils rose from the base of the throne, slithering around me as if to welcome me back. They carefully retrieved my coat and disappeared into the darkness, leaving me to take my seat.
As a vampire, my allure was part of my power. Unlike Momonga's undead form, which radiated an eerie, skeletal dread, I looked human—or rather, the vampire form I had carefully crafted. Standing two meters tall, I was a muscular, athletic figure with the sharp, handsome features of a man in his prime.
My avatar's charm was said to be immeasurable, a trait I had designed to captivate humans, monsters, and even gods. Ulbert had often referred to me as "The Invoker of Fear," "The Prince of Darkness," and on some occasions, "The Maker of Widows." He had always been dramatic like that.
Momonga sat on his throne, quietly muttering a command. "Stand by," he instructed the NPCs. They bowed respectfully and moved to their designated positions, leaving us alone in the room.
I glanced over at him as he began tweaking some character settings using the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown. Momonga then pulled out the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown and began tweaking the character settings of the NPCs. I knew what he was doing, but I stayed silent.
A part of me felt sorry for him. He was so invested in this world, in these characters, that I could see how deeply the shutdown affected him "Poor guy.." I muttered.
But for me? I remained silent, content to watch.
As I scanned the room, my gaze fell on Sebas. Out of curiosity, I called him over and opened his character info. My eyes quickly found a peculiar sentence: "Like every member of Nazarick, Sebas is also scared of angering Lord Hyperion."
I chuckled softly. "Scared of me?" I muttered under my breath. I read on. "Being the strongest and defeating all 41 Supreme Beings made him respect Lord Hyperion's strength."
*The strongest?* I thought to myself, raising an eyebrow. I knew I was powerful, but to have it written so explicitly.... Will they start a revolt against me calling me a tyrant?
Curious, I called over the Pleiades next. One by one, I reviewed their character info, and sure enough, they all had similar lines: "Fearful of Lord Hyperion's wrath" or "In awe of his unparalleled strength."
I blinked, my mind racing. Like all members of Nazarick? I wondered. Had Ulbert really gone that far with my backstory?
I groaned inwardly. "Fuckin' Ulbert…" I muttered under my breath" The Maker of Widows?" I sighed, shaking my head..
Ulbert had always been obsessive about role-playing, especially when it came to portraying me as the ultimate villain. He reveled in the idea of crafting a dark and fearsome persona for me, going so far as to add these unnecessary descriptions to every NPC.
I'd indulged him at the time, enjoying the idea of role-playing as an evil Dracula-like figure. But now, as I looked through the absurdly exaggerated titles and descriptions, it was almost some meme material.
Honestly, I didn't mind the role. It had been fun playing along. I'd embraced the role of an evil Dracula figure, complete with all the theatrics. But seeing it so blatantly spelled out in the character bios made me sigh. Ulbert had been too good at making me out to be some monstrous god of darkness.
'tch! without Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown, I can't change any of this but I had my own two guardians and I have written at least their backgrounds carefully.
I leaned back in my throne, letting the shadowy tendrils that surrounded it lightly brush against my skin. It was fitting, really. This entire throne room, the Pleiades, Sebas, all of it—it had been part of the grand story we had created together as a guild. But now, it was going to be more than a ghost, a memory of what once was. Soon, this world would will become real, and with it, the stories we had built.
Momonga was still tinkering with the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown and was changing albedos settings, lost in his own thoughts. I could tell that he didn't want to let go. For him, Nazarick was more than just a game. It was a sanctuary, a place where he could escape the loneliness of the real world.
"Momonga," I called out, breaking the silence. He paused, turning his glowing eyes toward me.
"Do you ever wonder… what happens after this?" I asked, my voice trembling with excitement.
His eyes dimmed for a moment. "I try not to think about it," he admitted. "When Yggdrasil is gone… I don't know what I'll do. This place, this guild, has been my whole life for so long."
The quiet hung between us, heavy and oppressive. Soon, the server would shut down, and this entire world would fade into nothingness or like in the manga turn for real, Like a school girl my mind was squealing in excitement because if it happened... I'm practically a god... a god with divinity over blood and darkness.
For now, all we could do was wait.
I glanced up at the banners hanging from the ceiling, each one representing a guild member who had once stood where we now stood. Each one carried its own memories, its own story.
As I sit there, lost in thought, something strange begins to happen. There's a rhythm—a deep, pulsing echo that doesn't quite match the normal beat of a heart. It's faint at first, barely noticeable, but as I focus on it, the sensation grows stronger. It's like there's something… other inside me, something that's been here all along. Not a foreign presence, but something familiar. I feel as though I've inherited a body that's vastly different from my own, yet it doesn't feel strange. In fact, it feels as if I've been in this body for centuries. The weight of its power, its history, presses down on me, making me realize that this is no ordinary form.
A tension begins to coil in my chest, building and twisting as my mind races with possibilities. But just as I think I might be overwhelmed by it, a red aura forms around me, pulsing in time with the echo. It's visible only to me, yet its presence is undeniable. The aura is warm, almost comforting, and it wraps around me like a protective shield. The tension begins to ease, replaced by a sense of calm. I don't even realize that the aura is leaking from me, spilling into the room. But as I glance toward Momonga, I notice something similar happening to him.
A green aura surrounds Momonga, faint at first, then growing more visible. It seems to be calming him in the same way the red aura is soothing me. His skeletal frame, usually so still and composed, relaxes slightly, and the frantic tapping of his fingers on the armrest slows.
Momonga is clearly trying every function the game has to offer. I can see his fingers flying across the holographic interface, opening and closing menus, attempting to contact the game administrators.
He tries to force a log-off command several times, but nothing is working. Every effort leads to the same conclusion: we're stuck here. This isn't a bug or a glitch. We're well and truly trapped.
Yet, as the reality of the situation sinks in for him, my mind is on cloud nine. Hell yeah, baby! Hell yeah! Come on! My thoughts scream with excitement. The thrill of being stuck in YGGDRASIL, this game that had dominated my life for years, is intoxicating.
This world was now real, and I was a powerful vampire lord within it. The possibilities, the power—it was all mine. I could barely contain myself. In my head, I did a virtual high-five with my own inner self, the joy of the situation almost making me giddy.
But just as I'm riding the high of my internal celebration, I glance over at Momonga—and that's when I see it. He's groping Albedo. Yes, groping.
I blink once. Twice. Trying to process what the hell is happening. Momonga, who is usually so methodical, so reserved, is… well, groping.
I glance to my right and see Sebas standing beside me, stoic and impassive as always. For a fleeting moment, a very bizarre thought crosses my mind: Would it feel just as weird if I groped Sebas?
The idea is too weird, too absurd. Still, I can't stop myself from coughing to break the awkward tension.
"Ahem."
Momonga freezes, his skeletal hands still on Albedo's chest. The room goes silent for a moment as my cough echoes through the vast chamber. Albedo, who had been squirming, suddenly stops, her golden eyes wide with surprise. Momonga looks up at me, his crimson eyes glowing slightly as if realizing what he was doing.
"Ah..." He retracts his hands quickly, stepping back from Albedo with a sense of embarrassment that is almost palpable despite his undead form. "I—uh—was just... checking her... settings. Yes, that's it. Her settings."
Albedo, ever loyal, immediately straightens herself out, her face now an unreadable mask of professionalism, though the blush in her cheeks is hard to miss. "Of course, Lord Momonga," she says smoothly, her voice as sweet and serene as ever. "Please feel free to… adjust my settings whenever you like."
Momonga coughs this time, clearly flustered. "Right, right… let's focus on the situation. Hyper, have you noticed anything… off?"
"I've been trying to reach the game masters, but nothing's working. It's like we've been completely cut off from the system."
Momonga, still calm despite the bizarre incident with Albedo, began to issue commands to the NPCs.."
Without a word, I summoned the ring of teleportation from my inventory.
With a thought, I activated its power. In an instant, the world around me blurred, and the grand walls of the throne room vanished.
When my vision cleared, I was no longer within the confines of the Great Tomb of Nazarick. Instead, I found myself floating in the open air above Nazarick's massive structure, high above the ground.
The vastness of the world below spread out before me, stretching as far as the eye could see. The sky was a deep shade of blue, with the yellow sun on top. A gentle wind swept across the air, causing my hair to billow around me like a cape of shadow.
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