Satoru began to consider what he needed in order to earn the prestige he sought before reaching the Muno Barony.
It was clear that problems, panic, and desperation needed to arise. Only under those circumstances could he successfully play the role of savior.
However, being a hero was a double-edged sword.
"Heroes must always be available. Always willing to help. Always the first option. And if they ever fail, hesitate, or refuse… their position falls apart," he muttered, with the logic of someone who had seen this pattern many times. "And that doesn't align with what I need."
What he sought wasn't to become someone beloved, but rather someone others wanted to maintain a good relationship with—without being able to control him.
"I need the nobles to see me as an ally, an equal. Someone they can approach only when absolutely necessary. If there's a cost to summon me... if there's a reason to hesitate... then I won't just gain resources. I'll gain time."
And Seiryuu City offered exactly the opportunity he needed.
There, a low-ranking demon would appear, with the ability to summon a high-ranking one.
A lesser demon already required an elite battalion to be defeated. Some individuals could handle them alone—but they were uncommon. Not rare, but certainly not average either. But a high-ranking demon... was something else entirely.
Forces of nature capable of wiping out entire nations. Entities that only dragons or heroes could face directly. For everyone else, the only realistic option was to minimize casualties.
"A high-ranking demon fulfills everything I need in a threat..." he concluded, narrowing his eyes. "But there's a problem I need to solve first… no, two."
The most urgent: language.
Without mastering the local language, his entire plan would collapse. He would be forced to isolate himself in Dragon Valley for weeks—a luxury he couldn't afford.
This world didn't use Japanese or English. And while many words sounded familiar, that wasn't enough. He needed full understanding. And quickly.
He had two options.
The first was to use [Wish Upon A Star], a super-tier spell capable of granting any wish at the appropriate cost. Originally, it required sacrificing a certain percentage of the user's total experience. But with his current authority over super-tier magic, he could substitute that cost with mana.
Even so…
"I don't want to use my best spell for something like this… it feels like a waste. Besides, the second option is more curious."
The second option was less certain—but far more interesting.
Among the powers inherited from Momonga, there weren't just spells. There were also passive, hidden, or conditional abilities. Authorities that required no magical casting, but simply the user's existence.
Many of those skills—like undead creation—had improved. The latter, for instance, had surpassed its previous daily limit. [Create Low-Tier Undead] used to be castable only 20 times per day, but now Satoru wasn't even sure it had a limit anymore.
These abilities had strengthened after his evolution into [Overlord King].
One in particular stood out: [Dark Wisdom].
Originally, it allowed a magic caster to expand the number of spells they could learn by sacrificing another player. That was how Momonga surpassed the standard 300-spell limit and reached over 700.
But now, Satoru suspected it could do much more.
He wasn't certain yet. But he had a hypothesis. And he wanted to test it.
He extended his awareness to his active summons.
"Search for any human or group of isolated humans. Bandits, adventurers, explorers... anyone will do," he ordered, then looked up at the sky. There were still a few hours left before sunset.
Time was not on his side.
And that was his second problem.
He knew that all major events would unfold within a period of fifteen to twenty days. If he didn't act immediately, he would lose his greatest advantage: foreknowledge.
"In the meantime... I should consider another point," he murmured, crossing his arms. "Companions? Should I reach out to those who were Satou's partners in the original work? Is there anyone truly worth it?"
During the events in Seiryuu City, Satou gained six companions. Three demi-human slaves, two human slaves, and one young elf girl. Curiously, three of them were also little girls. For some reason, Satou was extremely popular with them.
"Companionship... I can't reject the idea completely."
Having subordinates wouldn't just soften his image; it would also bring practical benefits. Without company, Satoru would project the image of a hermit—someone solitary or too powerful to share space with others. That perception could be useful at times… but also dangerous.
"An isolated figure always invites suspicion. When people don't understand what you are, they search for cracks to exploit. In that case, it's better if I design the weakness they're allowed to see."
A carefully measured relationship with his subordinates could shape how the world perceived him. The question was: who should he keep close?
The answer came quickly.
"The humans, Arisa and Lulu, are not viable."
Arisa was an adult reincarnated into the body of an eleven-year-old girl. Her maturity and cleverness could be useful… but also dangerous. She would ask too many questions. Observant, curious, restless. She didn't match the profile Satoru wanted at his side.
"She might make a good ally if controlled properly, but we're not compatible. I prefer to be surrounded by people who don't ask too much."
As for Lulu, his conclusion was swift.
"Not much to say. Her role was to be the group's shy and pretty girl. Despite being older than Arisa, she was far more emotionally dependent. Her obedience is useful, yes… but her bond with Arisa makes any attempt to separate them pointless."
He shook his head, dismissing the idea.
"The elf... Mia."
A real child—not a reincarnated one, nor a wise soul in disguise. Just a lost elf girl, deeply connected to spirits and nature.
"That kind of sensitivity won't be compatible with me. Besides, she stayed with Satou because she fell in love with him. I'm not interested in replicating that path."
He sighed.
"The demi-humans, on the other hand, are a better option."
Marginalized, scorned, seen as inferior. Precisely because of that, they were far more responsive to simple gestures like warm food, clean clothes, or a kind word.
"As long as I cover their basic needs, earning their loyalty will be easy."
But that decision brought a new problem.
Without Satou's intervention—or his own—the demi-humans would die within the next few days. He had to move quickly. He needed to master the local language as soon as possible, or lose his only opportunity to get ahead.
"Let's see what changes [Dark Wisdom] might show."
Ping.
A mental notification appeared—soft, but clear.
Satoru narrowed his eyes.
"It's time to find out."
***
The stench of blood and burnt wood filled the air. The crackling of flames and the whistling wind between the ruins of the camp were the only things breaking the sepulchral silence. In the middle of it all, hidden among the undergrowth, a merchant was breathing with difficulty. His body trembled as he looked at the corpses of his bodyguards scattered across the ground.
He had never seen a massacre like this. Never felt death so close.
The bandits were still there, looting the remains of the caravan, laughing with the spoils in their hands. They were filthy, savage men, with rusty swords and eyes hungry for violence. And yet, even they seemed a little uneasy.
"Nice cargo," one said, inspecting a broken crate. "Think it's worth hauling all of this back?"
"Bah, just what we can carry," replied another, spitting on the ground. "We don't have much time before someone notices the smoke."
Hidden in his cover, the merchant swallowed hard. He didn't dare move. He had no weapons. No allies. All he could do was hope they would finish their looting and leave him behind.
But then… something changed.
A chill ran down his spine as the air grew heavy, as if the entire forest had been stained with darkness.
And then, he saw them.
From the edge of the shadows, skeletal figures emerged, shrouded in a faint blue glow. They were undead skeletons. Some wore fragments of simple armor, others only tattered rags from what used to be clothing. They carried various weapons—mostly swords, a few shields, and some spears. Their number matched the bandits exactly.
"What… what the hell is this?" one of the thieves exclaimed, stepping back.
"Damned skeletons!" another shouted. "Weapons, now!"
"Shit! We're not even near Muno! What are undead doing in a place like this?!"
The merchant felt an urge to laugh—not out of amusement, but from the absurdity of the situation. Just minutes ago, he had been the victim, a mere merchant caught in a cruel fate. Now, he watched his tormentors tremble before something far worse.
And then… the slaughter began.
The skeletons advanced with unnatural coordination, moving like trained soldiers. Each one engaged a single bandit, attacking with terrifying force. These weren't the clumsy undead of legends. These were death soldiers.
The merchant saw one bandit try to block a strike. His sword was batted aside with a single blow, and the next slash cut him wide open. Screams of agony filled the air as the skeletons tore through the men, one by one.
In less than a minute, the bandits were done.
Some lay dead. Others barely breathed, writhing in pools of their own blood. Only one remained standing, gasping, his sword trembling in his grip.
The merchant then realized something else was happening. Undead were rare creatures, usually seen only in cursed zones or battlefields. Most people only saw one once in their lives—if ever—and almost always inside a dungeon.
This wasn't natural. Someone was commanding them.
His gaze rose, perhaps by instinct.
And then he saw it.
A figure floated above the ground.
It wasn't a man. It was a monster. A skeleton with gleaming white bones, massive—easily three meters tall—dressed in finely adorned robes. Where its eyes should have been, two blue orbs of light burned brightly in the night. It watched the scene without emotion.
The figure spoke in some cursed tongue the merchant couldn't understand. Immediately, the skeletons halted. The last bandit dropped to his knees. His sword slipped from his hands.
The merchant saw the figure extend a hand, as if harvesting the souls of the fallen. And then…
Silence.
The figure didn't speak. Didn't move. It simply remained there, suspended in the air, as though nothing in the world could disturb it.
Until it turned its gaze directly toward him.
"Can you understand me?"
The words were spoken in a low tone, but in the silence, they rang out clearly.
The merchant didn't know what to say. His mouth opened and closed repeatedly, afraid that any sound might trigger the creature to kill him too. But his lack of response seemed to annoy it—it sighed.
That gesture… was so human it made him nauseous.
Before he could think clearly, the figure appeared before him. Instantly. Without transition. It was just there, staring at him.
"Can you understand me?"
The merchant hesitated.
"...Yes... yes, I..."
"Good."
He didn't have time to wonder what that word meant.
The world was consumed by darkness.
***
Satoru was in a good mood.
He had confirmed that [Dark Wisdom] was capable of acquiring the knowledge of targets eliminated by him—or his summons—so long as they had been marked beforehand and died within a certain time limit.
However, the knowledge acquired didn't translate into immediate improvements. While the bandits possessed various weapon skills, their experience wasn't replicable. He could understand what they did, but he couldn't absorb their expertise as his own.
"Perhaps if I find skills that are compatible with me… whether magical or not, and free of class restrictions, I might be able to learn them directly."
When Satoru killed a marked target, a black orb with purple hues floated above the corpse. By absorbing it, he could view a list of the available knowledge. He still didn't know the exact rules or limits of the ability—but it wasn't urgent to figure that out right now.
"Another item on my list of things to study. But first, I need to keep moving forward."
He extended a hand.
—[Create Mid-Tier Undead: Corpse Collector]
A dark energy surged forth, flowing toward one of the nearby bodies. It was quickly engulfed in a black liquid. From within, the flesh began to expand and mutate.
What emerged was a grotesque undead creature: massive, with a muscular, deformed body covered in pustules. Yellow bandages wrapped around its torso, and thick steel bolts were embedded in its shoulders. From these bolts hung chains connected to a row of skulls, each one groaning in a low, haunting tone.
Wasting no time, Satoru pointed to a spot in the camp. A dark portal, taller than himself, opened with a roar of energy.
He stepped through without hesitation.
In an instant, he returned to Dragon Valley. Behind him, the Corpse Collector began transporting the corpses one by one through the portal.
Now back in his domain, Satoru opened his inventory.
He pulled out a special item: the [Scroll of the Shadowed Oath]. A black cloth scroll with silver lettering. It was a single-use artifact that allowed him to summon a Hanzo, a ninja-type creature with a level above 80. Its effectiveness in infiltration, scouting, and assassination made it one of the most valuable units.
They were so useful that, in the original Overlord series, the main characters exhausted all their resources just to summon Hanzos.
Since it was a mercenary-type NPC, it required YGGDRASIL currency to summon. But that wasn't a problem—Satoru had an abundance of money now.
[Summon: Hanzo]
A figure materialized before him. The perfect image of a traditional ninja: dark clothing, light armor on his forearms and shins, a mask covering his face. His posture was flawless.
"My lord. I have answered your call," he said, kneeling with his head bowed—a gesture of absolute loyalty.
"Hanzo," Satoru observed him closely. "Summons usually inherit part of their summoner's knowledge. Tell me… can you understand the Shiga language?"
It was a standard feature of YGGDRASIL summons—to inherit key knowledge for better coordination.
"Affirmative. I am familiar with both the written and spoken forms of the Shiga language."
"Perfect."
A Bone Vulture landed on his arm.
"I need you to infiltrate Seiryuu City. Your mission is to acquire a Yamato Stone… and locate an inn called 'GateInn'. This creature will guide you to the city."
"Understood," replied the Hanzo, lowering his head once more before vanishing into the shadows.
Satoru watched him disappear and muttered to himself:
"In the original Death March storyline, the demon events happened early on. Satou spent his first day in the valley. On the second, he reached the city. On the third, he encountered the demon. If that timeline holds… I still have a bit of room to maneuver."
Considering his original plan, Satoru continued to reflect.
"I need to maintain an aura of mystery... but I must not appear suspicious. So I have to find a way to change my appearance."
He turned his attention inward.
"No matter how you look at it, someone close to three meters tall draws attention. Even if I wear armor or cover myself entirely, it'll just cause more problems."
In YGGDRASIL, there was no such convenience as a temporary body or an item that allowed a person to change races at will.
Racial changes were part of the foundational structure that determined a person's total level and power in the game. They couldn't be modified easily. Usually, they required meeting strict conditions, consuming resources, and—most importantly—accepting risk. A racial change would be especially dangerous for Satoru at this moment.
At his core, his level 100 necromancer class was supported by at least 40 racial levels. And although he didn't know the exact level of his current class, [Overlord King], he wasn't willing to sacrifice those levels just to blend in.
The option to sneak in unnoticed was tempting. But he needed to interact with important figures—or at least their representatives. Appearing like an illegal immigrant could bring more complications than benefits.
Illusion magic seemed like a possible alternative… but it wasn't enough.
Satoru knew a few spells in that field, but none that met his expectations. And he was well aware that true illusionists could deceive the very world with their effects. He wasn't one of them.
Even so… one option remained.
"[Wish Upon A Star]… I'll have to use it after all. At the very least, it could serve me not just here, but also in case I travel to another world. The question now is: what's the best way to use it?"
Satoru knew that some spells allowed heteromorphic races to assume a human form. In Overlord, there were occasional mentions of a dragon capable of taking on a human appearance—and even having offspring, something normally impossible.
One of the basic rules in Overlord was that humanoids, demi-humans, and heteromorphs could not produce offspring with one another. The fact that this dragon had broken that rule implied he had become, in some way, genuinely human. Even so, he retained some of his traits and powers.
And beyond Overlord, there were other precedents. In Tsuki ga Michibiku Isekai Douchuu, a lich obtained a body of flesh. Also in Kobayashi-san Chi no Maid Dragon, where all dragons were capable of assuming human forms.
There were limitations, of course. Many lost abilities or were weakened by the transformation… but developing something like that wasn't impossible.
And for Satoru, it wasn't much of a disadvantage.
He had too much power. More than he could currently comprehend. To continue growing, it made sense to study his own capabilities, understand them, and then develop new branches of magic based on this world's systems.
It was logical. Understand before modifying.
The same applied to his strength.
Simply put, Satoru felt that he was currently too strong. The difference between conventional beings of the same level from Death March and those from YGGDRASIL was abysmal. Even at level 100 alone, he could handle most mortal beings. And with his new classes increasing his power exponentially, the true limit of what he could become was a mystery.
But that was also the problem.
Satoru was, in many ways, a newborn. He was barely beginning to grasp the foundation of his level 100 power when he suddenly received something far greater. For him, the tasks given by the voice weren't burdens—they were guides. Gain power. Learn to use it.
"I should take advantage of this world's weakness to learn better control over what I can do. And if I can improve my disguise, then it's still beneficial."
Resolved, he began preparing the spell.
[Wish Upon A Star] was a magic that could fulfill a wish. But it didn't break the world's rules. Satoru could only ask for things within his capabilities—or things that could be achieved through some form of exchange.
Using the transformation spell from Kobayashi-san Chi no Maid Dragon as a template allowed him to create a logical structure: allow transformation in exchange for power. That meant sealing off the skills and bonuses granted by his new classes in exchange for a stable human appearance.
The most important condition: he would be unable to use super-tier magic in his human form. Additionally, some of his abilities would be restricted.
His overall strength, however, would still be that of a level 100 being.
With that established, he spoke the words:
"Super-Tier Magic: [Wish Upon A Star]"
A massive, pale magic circle appeared beneath his feet and illuminated the entire area.
The light shone intensely. In an instant, the energy began to envelop him—rewriting his very existence.
His structure shifted. His vision blurred briefly, as if reality itself was adjusting to the new form he had requested. A strange tingling sensation ran through his body, as if his very being were collapsing and reforming at the same time.
And then… the light vanished.
Satoru lowered his gaze and looked at his new form.
His Overlord figure had vanished. Where there had once been only bones, now stood the body of a human being. His hand was covered in pale skin—flawless, without blemishes—but also without any signs of life or death. It was unnatural.
And with that new body… came a new emotion.
Weakness.
The thought was immediate. His body tensed.
He had created this form himself. He had imposed the restrictions. All of this was part of his plan.
And yet, the desire to abandon it all and return to his true form hit him without warning.
He felt empty. Fragile. Limited.
His real body gave him a sense of omnipotence—of absolute safety. He might not have known exactly how powerful he was, but now, comparing it to his current state, he finally understood: the gap between both forms was massive.
And that realization made him tremble.
He felt incomplete—like a tiger stripped of its claws and fangs. Vulnerable. Human.
"This is necessary," he said, placing a hand over his chest, ignoring the absence of any functional heart inside. "If I don't learn to control my abilities in this state… I won't be able to make use of my power. It's necessary… it is."
With a sigh, Satoru pulled a full-length mirror from his inventory.
He wanted to see his new reflection. To distract himself, even slightly, from the discomfort gnawing at him.
And it worked.
What he saw before him was a tall man, comparable in height to Momonga. His physique was sculpted with precision—each muscle perfectly balanced between strength and grace. Not the grotesque exaggeration of a muscle-bound warrior, but the anatomical perfection of someone designed for battle.
His hair was jet black, falling in loose strands to the base of his neck. His eyes, a deep shade of blue, didn't look entirely human. Too intense. Too clear. Too... striking.
Everything about him seemed carefully crafted. Beautiful, yes. But also unsettling.
This appearance… felt out of place.
He was human—but at the same time, he didn't feel like one.
"Is this what I was supposed to look like?"
Satoru couldn't remember his previous human appearance—if he ever had one. But he knew, with absolute certainty, that he didn't look like the reflection staring back at him.
He had no expression. His face was cold, neutral, devoid of emotion. Yet there was something strange about the image. It didn't look like a mere human.
"My goal was to hide… won't this draw even more attention?"
He couldn't help but ask himself that.
His appearance was attractive. Impossible to ignore. But it didn't feel like a blessing—it felt like an anomaly.
He recalled how, in many worlds, beauty and power were often intertwined. Maybe… this form was an inevitable manifestation of what he was as an Overlord King. A subconscious reflection of his status, even in this weakened appearance.
Even so…
He looked once more at his reflection. His expression hadn't changed. He knew this image would draw stares—even if he didn't want it to.
"I'll have to get used to it…"
A connection interrupted him.
Someone was trying to communicate with him.
When Satoru sensed the incoming message, he immediately knew it was Hanzo.
His mission had ended without issue.
That was good. Acquiring a Yamato Stone was key to entering the city. These stones were used by the military to examine the status of incoming visitors. Through them, they could view not just one's level, but other important information such as:
Race, Age, Level, Affiliation, Occupation, Class, Title, Skills… even whether there was a bounty on the person's head.
And now that he had one in his possession, he could study it at his leisure. Practice how his status should appear when entering the city. With a few analysis spells and some trial and error, figuring out how to manipulate the data wouldn't be difficult.
"Good work, Hanzo."
"My lord, your words honor your servant. I merely fulfill my duty."
Satoru didn't continue the conversation.
Time was pressing. Tests awaited.
And a destiny lay ahead.