Capítulo 125: Overlord in Westeros (Asoiaf/Overlord) by Sureidontcare also known as sure I don't care in fanfiction.net
Words: 31k+
Links: https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/overlord-in-westeros-asoiaf-overlord.958862/
https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13551308/1/Overlord-in-Westeros
( Before the shutdown of YGGDRASIL, Papa Bones is suddenly plucked right out of the Great Tomb of Nazarick and dropped into the world of Ice and Fire without a single clue of what is going on. After which, Hilarity Ensues. Or the Apocalypse. One of the two. )
1.The Rebirth
Same author as ff.net. Posted here mostly for the insert image feature so I can post artwork for this fic.
"This is much too silly."
Inwardly facepalming, he still typed out the words on the console keyboard. The words formed a single line:
"She is in love with Momonga."
"How embarrassing!"
Momonga facepalmed. Altering Albedo's backstory and character info like this was nothing more than shameless self-indulgence. But the Overseer of the Guardians was a special creation of his comrades. He wanted to delete it out of guilt but then decided against it.
The game would end soon, after all. Moreover, the words he added filled the gap in the console of what he deleted. Surely this was far better than deleting and leaving an empty space.
Momonga sat back on the throne, looking around the vast hall before him. The Throne of Kings itself was impressive enough, but the throne room certainly did not lack in scale or grand design. Nothing on the ninth and tenth floors was. It was an area designed by the guild to welcome invaders who managed to penetrate the defense of the Tomb of Nazarick.
It would be here that Ainz Ooal Gown would assemble for a final battle with the invaders. Although no players had ever reached the Throne Room, not even the Union of Eight Guilds when they launched their invasion of Nazarick, making the chamber little more than a decoration.
In front of the throne stood Sebas and the maids who had followed him. They were tall and rigid, standing in absolute silence.
Wasn't there a command I could use?
Momonga raised his hand before lightly bringing it down in true role play fashion that would have made Ulbert Alain Odle nod in a prideful manner at the movement.
"Kneel."
As one, Albedo, Sebas, and the six maids knelt before him, the NPCs obeying the command in a rigid fashion. As NPCs tended to move unless performing the custom attack movements that he and guildmates had programmed into them.
Momonga again raised his hand to see the clock of his HUD.
[23:55:48]
Just a little left.
In all likelihood, the GMs were engulfing the servers with fireworks in the last moments before shut down. But Momonga did not care for that. He had only stayed for Nazirick.
Momonga leaned back on the throne, and slowly raised his head to look at the ceiling.
He was hoping that someone might try their luck against him in the final moments of the game.
But none had come to offer a challenge.
He had sent emails to all the guild members, hoping that they would come and enjoy the end of the game with him inside Nazarick.
But few answered and fewer came. None bothered to stay this long.
"A relic...this place."
Momonga drowned himself in thought.
The Great Tomb of Nazarick. The place he and his friends had worked so hard to create was now empty.
He turned his eyes to admire the banners hanging down from the ceiling. There were forty-one of them in total, one for every guild member. Each bore the guild member's sigil. Momonga pointed to one of them.
"Mine."
Then, he turned to another. The banner belonged to one of the strongest players in all of YGGDRASIL.
"Touch Me."
The next banner belonged to the oldest member of the guild, who was a professor IRL.
"Shijuuten Suzaku."
Momonga moved down the row of banners.
"Ankoro Mochimochi."
"Herohero, Peroroncino, Bukubukuchagama, Tabula Smaragdina, Warrior Takemikazuchi, Variable Talisman, Punitto Moe—"
It was not long before he named the entire guild. He could never forget a single one.
He sprawled tiredly on the throne.
"It was really fun…"
When Momonga had first begun playing YGGDRASIL, the game was nothing more than an odd hobby. At the time, he was one of the targets who was hunted down and killed by PKers multiple times. Having enough of the harsh treatment, he was very close to quitting the game until he met Touch Me.
The game had become more than a hobby then. Although no fees were required to play, Momonga spent a third of his monthly salary on it. It had soon become his only hobby and he poured in time and money into the game. For Momonga found no greater joy than playing with his friends.
To Momonga, who had no friends IRL, Ainz Ooal Gown was the symbol of all the great memories he shared with his friends. Even long after they left the game and chose real-life over Nazarick. Even after they left the guild and gave up all their items to him. Despite all of that, Ainz Ooal Gown would remain. The symbol of all they had built would remain.
And now, even the guild home would disappear. Along with the rest of the game.
Momonga tightened his grip on the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown. He could only watch the closing time as it approached. And wait for the inevitable shutdown of the servers.
Not much time was left either. This virtual game that held most of his happy memories would end and reality would dawn once again. Every member of Ainz Ooal Gown had lives outside the game and would always choose those lives over the game. Though Momonga never wanted to make the decision, it seemed now his hand was forced.
Momonga sighed. He had to wake up at four tomorrow. He had to sleep the moment the servers shut down in order not to affect the next day's work.
[23:59:35, 36, 37]
Momonga set the HUD to count out the seconds.
[23:59:48, 49, 50]
Momonga closed his eyes.
[23:59:58, 59]
This was not the first time he had been forced into an automatic log-out. A game like YGGDRASIL is massive and occasionally, some players would discover some exploit or another that broke the game and the GMs would force log out everyone so they could fix it.
But as Momonga opened his eyes, he immediately realized that he had not been logged out. But neither was he still inside the game for the Throne Room had turned into an infinite black void. And Momonga could not even feel his in-game Avatar.
This is one hell of a forced logout. Maybe a prank from the Shitty Devs?
Winterfell, 263 AC
"It's a boy, my lady. A healthy boy." Maester Walys said as he handed the child to the Lady of Winterfell.
Lyarra Stark took her son into her arms without hesitation. A smile spread across her face.
"My second born. Eddard Stark."
Valyrian steel is given to the Archmaester who is devoted to mastering the mystic arts. As a Young Maester, I like so many others before, sought to master the mystic arts and devoted all my time to its study. So was my devotion that my fellow Maesters called me 'the Mage'. But despite the name, in truth, I had no magic to show for it. The Maesters say that magic was long dead. Even after I had become the Archmaester that bore Valyrian Steel, the man who holds the most knowledge of magic, no ancient spells I tried had any effect. All I had was a rod and a few old candles. It was then I wished to have been able to live in a time when magic was not dormant. And not long after, my wish had come true.
Magic returned. Suddenly and without any foretelling, all across the known world, magic had at once been restored. At first, it was priests. Septons and Septas praying next to the sick when the gods answered their prayers. These were no isolated incidents either, as all across Westeros, Septons would utter prayers from their 'Seven-Pointed Star' and the gods would answer. This was not only limited to the Faith of the Seven either. All across the world, everything from prayers to ancient rituals that have been nothing more than empty talk in the past had suddenly become powerful spells.
This began the Great Upheaval. In every city, castle, town, and village across the world, uncertainty reigned. Religious fever had risen to an all-time high. And in Westeros, pushed by this religious fever, the Faithfull stopped killing each other. Warlords stopped their endless wars and knights started to partake more in the faith... Or at least that was what the Faith assumed would happen.
Naturally, the Septons couldn't be any more comically wrong. In truth, the Seven Kingdoms have a highly militarized culture. So, when magic returned to Westeros, it had the predictable effect of starting an arms race. From landed knights to Great Lords, all began looking for any sort of spell to give them an edge over their neighbors. It wasn't long before they found those spells and warred their neighbors using them.
But why did magic return to the world? If it was the will of the Gods, as the Septons claim, then why do the Faithfull still war amongst themselves. If the Gods could simply 'will' magic into existence, then why did they give it to Heathens and Heretics as well. Slavers and Red Priests were amongst the first to use magic on the other side of the Narrow Sea. While in the Iron Islands, rumors began reaching the continent of horrific 'drownings', human sacrifice of slave thralls conducted in mass, to access horrifying energies.
If not the Gods, then we must look elsewhere for the origins of the rebirth. The Maesters point to a singular place and time for the return of magic. The Palace of Summerhall in 259 AC, when King Aegon V successfully hatched seven dragon eggs and brought magic back to the world. But this assumption can be readily disproved. Certainly, there was a great surprise at King Aegon's success in hatching dragons, but this did not cause upheaval. I have reason to believe that the rebirth occurred sometime between 262 to 263 AC. My evidence for these dates is that they more precisely line up with when the Great Upheaval shook the world to its foundations.
The Order of Maesters itself was among the first to fall quarry to this upheaval, for an armed band of hired thugs stormed the citadel at Oldtown. The thugs killed two Archmaesters, stealing from them their sacred black keys that open any lock in the citadel. But these brigands did not come to take what little gold our order holds. They were after only one thing: magical tomes and scrolls that have been locked away for centuries.
Though I do not know who committed this outrageous theft against my Order, clearly, they did not know the Maesters well. The Conclave, in its wisdom, expected such actions and moved several of the more repulsive tomes, involving human sacrifice, far away to hidden vaults for more warranty. We had expected Lords to begin demanding magical tomes and perhaps even make threats. But an armed band of thieves? This was something even my wise order could not anticipate. Though considering the cutthroat nature of 'nobles' who only seek more power for themselves, we should have seen it coming.
The tomes that were stolen were priceless. And there was a great possibility that the thieves who took them would be able to invoke the magic within them. The knowledge was used only to contribute more to the Great Upheaval and enhance the madness.
But this does leave us clueless on an explanation for the cause of this Upheaval. What exactly caused magic to return to the world?
Excerpt from "The Rebirth"
by Archmaester Marwyn.
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