章節 2: CH : 02 Past, Present, Future

With a heavy heart, Momonga closed his eyes as the world around him began to fade, knowing that when he woke up, it would be to face another day in the real world, devoid of the fantastical realms and cherished bonds of the virtual realm.

[23:59:58, 59—]

***

Momonga's eyes snapped open as the countdown reached its final moments, expecting the familiar sensation of automatic logout. But to his bewilderment, instead of the expected disconnection, he found himself surrounded by a dense forest, the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the canopy above.

"Yes, finally I am out...?!" His voice echoed in the quiet wilderness as he scrambled to his feet, his mind racing to make sense of the unexpected turn of events.

***

I could barely remember the contents. This feeling of being locked in there truly was the worst thing ever happened to me.

It felt very unreal to me. 13 fucking years I was imprisoned in there like a bird in a cage. It was even worse for me as I couldn't do anything, I mean literally anything while locked in there.

I gazed intently at my skeletal hands, a mixture of fascination and triumph swirling within me. "Finally, I'm in control," I muttered, my voice resonating with newfound happiness. "Whoever imprison me in that body… screw them."

Just before I could celebrate my new found long awaited freedom a bolt of pain shot through my head.

"Damn."

Holding my head, I gritted my teeth as a powerful pain threatened to explode my head even though there wasn't any brain in there.

From the moment I found myself in this third world, all memories of Suzuki Satoru's life invaded my head. I was able to detail each of Suzuki's birthdays, and this was not pleasant at all. So much information invading my mind caused unbearable internal pain, to the point that I almost fainted countless times during the day.

As the memories came flooding back, I felt a surge of hatred for the circumstances that had led me to this abhorrent place—Earth, but not the Earth I once knew. A future Earth, a dystopian nightmare, so hideous, so utterly corrupted, it could only be described as an abomination.

The worst part, however, was not the world itself but my imprisonment within it. Thirteen years ago, I found myself trapped in the frail, sickly body of Suzuki Satoru. At first, I fought against this confinement with every ounce of will I had. I tried to regain control, to reclaim my body, but no matter what I did—whether through sheer force or cunning manipulation—it was futile. Not even in his sleep could I wrest control from Suzuki.

I was perfectly imprisoned in that sickly, weak body.

At first, I tried everything to get my body or take control of it. But no matter how much or what I tried, I couldn't control it—not even in Suzuki's sleep.

It took me months to realize that I was in the world of Overlord after hearing the name YGGDRASIL.

Before that, I thought some kind of omnipotent being was playing its sick games with my soul—which I still think is the case.

Even knowing that I was now in a fictional world, this was not the main fact that shook me.

Rather, it was that I had partially become a completely different person.

I was imprisoned in Suzuki Satoru's body, the main protagonist of the story.

This was the fact that left me so shaken.

It was all still very unreal to me at that time.

YGGDRASIL, the New World, a hideous dystopian Earth, magic, power, smoking hot women—I knew the origins of these terms.

This wasn't some sick cosmic game being played by an omnipotent being, though I still suspect some vile force was involved.

No, I was in the world of Overlord—a fictional universe I once thought existed only on screens and in books. I recognized it as soon as I heard the name YGGDRASIL.

Overlord.

An anime that one of my fellow killer crew members insisted I watch. Eventually, with not much else to do, I decided to give it a chance.

I found the plot interesting and committed to watching it in full.

After that, I read the whole novel series.

Unfortunately, the phenomenon that dragged me into this world had arrived before the author could finish his work.

The revelation should have given me some clarity, but it only deepened my despair. The truth wasn't just that I was in a fictional world, but that I was now partially someone else—a passenger in the body of Suzuki Satoru, the protagonist of the story. The very thought was both surreal and horrifying.

After spending months upon months unable to do anything, I gave up.

For months, I existed in a state of helplessness, unable to do anything but watch. The monotony and powerlessness nearly broke me. There were days I seriously considered ending it all, but the grim reality was that I had no way to do so. Killing the soul within a body already occupied by another was not within my grasp—if it were, I wouldn't have been in this mess to begin with.

So I tried my best to find a way to do something, even though I was unable to access any of Suzuki's memories or thoughts, limited to merely observing what was happening outside through his eyes.

To me, it felt like being trapped in a cell, limited to observing the outside through a small window.

It was irritating, but with time, I accepted it as possibly the puppet on strings forced to dance on the fingers of some vile god. But I wasn't one of those who accepted the fate that was thrown towards them.

Over time, I resigned myself to my fate, observing Suzuki's life as though from behind a prison cell's window. But resignation is not in my nature. After nearly a year of experiments and frustration, I discovered a small crack in my cage: Suzuki's dreams, particularly his lucid ones. Through these, I could subtly influence his thoughts and actions. It wasn't ideal, but it was something—a shred of control in a situation designed to strip me of it.

With this newfound ability, I decided to make the most of my imprisonment. I did what any opportunist would do:

Plagiarism.

I plagiarized the heck out of the works I knew well enough to remember in detail.

I siphoned ideas from the stories I knew and loved, pushing Suzuki to create masterpieces in his dreams. Through him, I introduced the world to Fate/Grand Order, the whole Fate franchise, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Dragon Ball, Demon Slayer, Weathering with You, Your Name, Harry Potter, Dune, and more. These works became monumental successes, providing us with wealth and influence.

In this dystopian world, where stepping outside required masks and goggles to survive the toxic air, entertainment was a luxury the elites craved. The money from these plagiarized creations flowed like a river.

This earned Suzuki enough money to become one of the rich elites.

I had him invest most of it—around 60%—into Aetheris Interactive, the company behind YGGDRASIL. The investment granted Suzuki insider knowledge, loopholes, and leniency for exploits.

The remaining 40% went into transforming Suzuki into one of the game's greatest whales, funding everything from cash shop purchases to extravagant events and the construction of the Great Tomb.

Whether it was spending money on the cash shop, special holiday events, the Great Tomb, or giving gifts to Suzuki's friends, it was all in good faith. And all of it was done by Suzuki.

I wasn't foolish enough to aim for direct control of Suzuki's body. I knew better than to create a butterfly effect that might worsen my situation. I stayed in the shadows, pulling strings only when necessary, all while remaining acutely aware of the possibility of something even worse lurking out there—perhaps the very entity that had placed me here, or maybe it was just my paranoid self stuck in some multiverse shenanigans.

So, I bided my time, waiting for Suzuki to enter the New World. For me, that was where the true story would begin—the story I intended to twist and shape into something far more interesting than what fate had originally planned.

Fortunately, my new body didn't let me feel pain, so I was able to endure. But still, it was irritating to receive a load of memories followed by a sharp pain.

This time, the memories of Suzuki, going to his miserable job, living his miserable life in possibly one of the worst kinds of future just before I showed up invaded my thoughts.

They seemed to be the last memories I would receive.

Receiving Suzuki's memories was strange. It seemed to somehow alter my own personality.

From what I had noticed, I didn't share Suzuki's thoughts or share the same body. I had completely taken over the new Mamonga's body for myself, leaving only his memories behind.

But still, it seemed to affect me somehow. The man's sense of friendship was strong, strong enough to merge with my own sense of friendship.

Even having taken over Suzuki's body, I could say that the man hadn't disappeared completely. He now, in a way, was part of me himself.

Relaxing my body when the pain finally disappeared, I, now Suzuki Satoru, Mamonga looked up at the bright clear night sky filled with stars.

At this moment, when I, Mark was finally in the driver seat I didn't know what to do. As I never thought something like this would happen.

Having extensive knowledge about my own future in that world, there were many things to do, but was that really what I wanted? I had a fucked up life before being killed, I didn't have to deal with anything like what this world had to offer.

Even though for many, living in an anime world would be like a dream, I still hadn't entirely accepted this fact. After 13 very long years, what felt like a century, I was here in control.

Dealing with the world and becoming the Overlord, while in the process, killing countless was not something I desired.

But still, I didn't just want to give up. Having received a chance to live in another world, I wanted to make the most of it and not just be a slave to fate.

I still had hesitation in my heart, but I knew that simply waiting and hoping everything would resolve itself wouldn't happen.

I needed to act, I needed to decide.

And even not knowing if this was really the right decision to make, I decided to take the safe path.

After taking a moment to calm the tempest of emotions raging within me, I allowed myself to fully embrace the marvel of my newfound freedom. The sensation of existing in this body—truly existing—was almost overwhelming. For the first time in 13 long, agonizing years, I could feel. Not just as an observer trapped behind the unyielding bars of Suzuki's flesh, but as me.

The simple act of movement brought a surge of exhilaration. I stretched my limbs with deliberate slowness, savoring the creak of my joints, the pull of muscle against bone—if this skeletal form could even be called that. The wind whispered across my body, cool and electric, brushing against me like an intimate caress I had almost forgotten. Each gust was a reminder that I was no longer imprisoned. I could move. I could breathe. I could feel.

I clenched my hands into fists, relishing the alien yet familiar sensation of control. My fingers curled and uncurled at my command, no longer bound by another's will. The simple act of gripping something—anything—sent a shiver through me. I grabbed at the earth, the grit of the dirt pressing against my palm a sensation I hadn't experienced in over a decade. It was rough and real, grounding me in this moment.

I closed my eyes, letting the darkness swallow me, not because I had to but because I chose to. The sensation of eyelids meeting, shutting out the light, was an act so simple yet profound after years of helpless observation. It was mine to command. Mine to control.

And then, almost out of instinct, my gaze wandered downward, and I couldn't help but chuckle, the sound low and resonant, echoing in my chest. My "little brother," as I once called it, was not so little anymore. A surge of pride mingled with a strange sense of humor at the absurdity of even this feeling returning to me. It was proof, yet again, of my liberation.

Every motion, every sensation, was a rediscovery of life itself. Like a paralyzed man who had been locked within his body, forgotten by time and the world, I was reborn into this freedom. My very existence brimmed with a raw, unfiltered joy that teetered on the edge of disbelief. The world was vibrant, tactile, alive, and, for the first time in what felt like eternity, so was I.

The memory of those 13 years of suffocating stillness only heightened the intensity of every experience. I hadn't just been trapped in another's body; I had been exiled from life itself. To feel again was an indescribable ecstasy, a reminder that even in the darkest moments, the light of freedom could be so painfully, beautifully blinding.

I allowed myself to fully immerse in the long-lost pleasures of life, surrendering to the pure, untainted joy of sensation after what felt like an eternity of deprivation. For the first time in years, I let my mind go blissfully blank, free of thoughts, worries, or the haunting memories of imprisonment. Every whisper of the wind against my form, every subtle shift of my body, became a symphony of sensations I savored without restraint. This was more than a moment—it was a rebirth, a rediscovery of what it truly meant to feel alive.

The irony was unmistakable—after years of desperate yearning to reclaim the essence of life, I now stood as one of the Undead, and yet, I felt more alive than I ever had in my frail, human body.

"As the saying goes, you only truly appreciate what you've lost," I mused, a wry thought echoing in my mind as a grin spread across the skeletal visage that was now my face.

After reveling in the newfound sensations of my new body, the torrent of unanswered questions finally spilled from my mouth.

"What the hell is going on here? Shouldn't I be seated on the Throne of Kings, flanked by two drop-dead gorgeous hotties ready to cater to my every whim? And why in the name of all things unholy am I stuck in a goddamn forest?!"

The towering trees stretched endlessly, their branches clawing at the moonlit sky like skeletal hands. Shadows danced ominously on the forest floor, their movements teasing my rising unease. My mind raced, heart pounding with equal parts confusion and intrigue. Was this some unforeseen ripple of the butterfly effect? A catastrophic malfunction of wild magic? Or perhaps the work of that enigmatic being who hurled me into this body in the first place?

Could it truly be that I had been thrust into the New World of Overlord? Or is it some other world?