If you notice any errors, please feel free to give me constructive feedback. English is not my first language, so if you notice any mistakes, please mention them in the comment section at the end of the chapter. I do not own Overlord. All property rights belong to their respective creators. Let's begin the story!
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Chapter-34
Re-Estize,
Re-Estize Kingdom,
New World;
Overlord Verse;
"Anyway, what's so special about that book, Evileye, that you carry it with you everywhere?" a tall and bulky woman asked her short companion, known as Evileye.
"Ahh! A musclehead like you couldn't possibly understand the importance of this old book—it belonged to a powerful magic caster and records his journey," Evileye muttered, earning a smile from her companions as the bulky woman slapped her back in humor. Their comical exchange caused the twins, who sat across from the short, masked woman and the giant woman named Gargan, to stare in amazement, along with the woman in the floral long dress who sat beside them inside the carriage.
Getting a strong pat on her back, Evileye glared at the woman named Gargan, who laughed at her party member. Then their captain—the leader of the Blue Roses, an adamantite adventurer party based in the Re-Estize Kingdom—intervened to stop the bickering among her team. "We are meeting Princess Renner. Please behave yourselves in Her Highness's presence."
"Well, she's just another employer; it really shouldn't matter," muttered Evileye, earning a laugh from Gargan as she replied, "Well, isn't our leader and the princess too worried about this little group causing problems in the capital?"
"Hmmm. To us they are petty thieves, but I'm sure the princess thinks otherwise," muttered one of the twins, Tina, while her other twin remained quiet.
"It wouldn't have become a problem if it weren't for those idiot nobles," muttered Lakyus, tightening her fist in spite of her anger toward the corrupt nobles.
The conversation between the Blue Roses continued as their carriage made its way through the streets of Re-Estize's capital, heading toward the Royal Castle.
******
Meanwhile, similar to Evileye, an old man remained seated at his table inside a tall tower within the Empire, adjacent to the Re-Estize Kingdom. He sat staring at the book atop the table, having received the grimoire from his first master—the wandering magic caster who had stopped by his village during his childhood, helped him identify his talent, and set him on the path to become a wizard.
Though the magic caster hadn't stayed in the village for long, he had gifted him a copy of his grimoire, which contained accounts of his adventures. 'Though he had layered it with magic locks to make it difficult for me to open. And by following his trajectory, the place should have been close to the Re-Estize Kingdom.' He sighed, having searched for the place mentioned in the book to no avail, even after managing to unlock it through decades of hard work.
"Hmm…" 'The powerful vampire that recently appeared near E-Rantel is interesting. I should have it investigated.' He mused, as he pleaded to the supposed god mentioned by his master in the grimoire. Unlike his old master, he was ready to lay down his life—if it was at all possible—to get a glimpse at the abyss of magic. With the vampire, providing him with a lead, that could possibly help him unveil the secret to the powerful undead he had recently captured.
After being denied entry to Eryuentiu, he felt a strong bond with his old master. But presented with a new path, he had exhausted every resource to find the Door that led to the home of the All-powerful and Omnipotent God and get his wish granted. Alas, he had failed in his quest repeatedly.
******
Somewhere else… in the domain beyond the door.
A soundless space greeted them—a dimension suspended in infinite darkness and stillness.
Alexiar's foot struck the unfamiliar surface. There was no texture, no echo. Just void beneath his step. He felt an unnatural stillness, as if time itself refused to flow.
"What is this place…?" he thought, instinctively reaching for the hilt of his spear. The air didn't move. As he felt the absence of air, yet something inside him shuddered.
To his side, he sensed something immense.
Turning slowly, his breath hitched.
A massive dragon—its red scales mottled with soot—lay sprawled like a felled mountain. Its eyes were closed, the eyelids alone taller than any walls laid across major cities to protect against monster invasion.
He was frightened by it, but upon closer, he found it dead, relieving him of the outcome, yet he shuddered at the being responsible for its demise.
The awe gripped him briefly, before a sharp pang of dread stabbed through his chest.
"My comrades!"
He spun around—and his blood froze.
They were scattered like discarded dolls, all of them—his comrades, brave and strong—laying motionless on the glassy surface of the void. No wounds marked their exterior. ut their eyes were open, frozen wide, expressions full of hope and aspirations.
They appeared as if frozen in time.
He looked around, trying to find the golden door they had stepped through, but the space was closed, as if it had never existed.
Then, he looked down at his hands—specifically, at the two rings.
They were heirlooms passed down his family, they had inherited from his great-grandfather's treasury along with the silver spear and full-body armour. As, for the rings, one granted a resurrection upon death, while the other was embedded with two gems. One gem let him be immune to instant death spells, while the other rendered him immune to time stop magic.
"Are these rings… the reason I'm still moving? Was this some kind of Time Stop magic?" he thought, a cold realization dawning upon him. He was witnessing the magic he had only ever heard about in tales passed down through his family.
Then, he felt it.
A subtle dissolution.
His fingers were flickering at the edges. His form… growing lighter. Less defined. As though his body were slowly unraveling into threads of soul and substance. He felt his soul and the essence that made his existence – disintegrate before him. A process that had begun the moment he had stepped foot inside the dimension, as he looked over at his comrades – who suffered the same fate as him, despite being stuck in time.
He watched his comrades again—and saw it clearly this time.
They too were breaking down.
It was when he noticed an angel to appear through swirl of darkness, through the cluster for it disintegrate before it could reach his side.
Despair crushed him. And for the first time in his life, he cursed his bloodline. Cursed his fate. As even the all-powerful ring that protected him against instant death, and the ring that was supposed to resurrect him, met with the same fate as him.
Drawing upon the conclusion, making him finally realise the place belonged to a power that even surpassed the Eight Godkings. Making him wonder if even the dragon that lay dead was possibly stronger than the Eight Godkings, to remain uneffected by the power of the place even in death.
******
Back at the forest, the Door still stood tall – Unmoved and unaffected by everything.
As Percus departed, a young, talented Griff—who had overheard the conversation and sensed the disturbance arrived before the door. Upon laying eyes on the divine structure, the young Griff fell to his knees, prostrating himself before the door.
The Griff race was not particularly strong, but their numbers were few—barely in the upper two digits. When the other Griff heard the tale from the young one, many remained skeptical. But all doubt vanished the moment they saw the Door for themselves. Just being near it seemed to mend their wounds. Its divine aura poured out gently, like warmth from a sacred hearth, healing injuries simply by proximity.
Soon, the Griff were not alone.
Dark Dwarves followed. Unlike the Dwarves of the Azerlisia Mountains, the dark kin had long resisted abandoning their ancient culture. Where others moved towards embracing the convenience of the tiered magic system, these Dark Dwarves remained fixated on rune craft. And when they found the Door—runes etched into its frame, layered in patterns beyond anything they recognised—they were enthralled. With the immense power they felt from the runes.
Their reverence turned into alliance.
The Griff, blessed by the Door's divine energy, accepted the weapons and armor the Dwarves forged.
Not long after, the Turtle Tribe of beastmen arrived—beings once on the brink of extinction, persecuted by stronger demi-human tribes. Like the Griff, they had considered abandoning the region entirely. Instead, they found sanctuary at the Door. They, too, witnessed miracles.
Their life centred around the Divine Door, as they prayed and worshipped it, all in hopes of laying their eyes on the Supreme God, - get a glimpse on the divine figure of the All-Powerful God. And the Door didn't turn away anyone who seeks sanctuary within its presence.
And then came the Goat Beastmen—practitioners of magic, wandering hermits in the hills. When they encountered the Door and witnessed its power, they bowed low and pledged themselves.
The four races forged an alliance.
Griff guarded the north.
Dark Dwarves took the south.
The Turtle Tribe stood sentinel to the west.
And the Goat Beastmen defended the east.
They called it a temple—the physical manifestation of the path that led to abode of their god. A divine structure worthy of worship. And in time, their faith deepened. Together, the Dwarves and Goat Beastmen shaped the land around it, building an artificial hill to conceal the Door from sight. Layer upon layer of protective runes, wards, and magical defenses were laid with painstaking care.
Each clan pledged their lives to the Divine Structure, believing that one day—when the Door finally opened—they would be allowed to offer their allegiance directly to their god.
They protected the temple with secrecy. Other demi-human tribes, sensing something powerful in the region, grew suspicious. But were painstakingly deflected from the region as they used powerful, wards with runes to create a powerful illusion and mist to disrupt all those who tried to invade their god's abode. With the Dark Dwarves plotting with the Goat Beastmen, they intensified the conflict with the neighbouring kingdom barely to distract the demi-human tribes of the Abelion Hills and were successful in their scheme.
While, the Four-Clan Alliance stood strong, with their devotion. Sacrificing themselves, all in hopes one day meeting their God. As the Alliance stood strong, they fought off other tribe, they plotted and silently fought amongst themselves to lay claim over the Door, as they competed to please their God, awaiting the day the door would be opened.
Yet despite all their hopes, the Eternal Flying Garden of Utopia – Avalon had only partially arrived to the New World. Alas, its main castle had yet to descent the New World.
Still, the door remained unmoved and unaffected by all.
It stood nestled within the Abelion Hills, protected by four races whose very survival had been ensured by its arrival. They watched and waited for the promised day.
A future that would begin to unfold the moment Kai and his guild arrived in the New World.
******
AN:
What do you think about the start of this second volume and as promised I have started with the second volume of this fic by second week of August. As, always do drop a comment to relay your opinion about this chapter, where I could draw upon those suggestions to improvise my next chapters. Also, if you can, drop a review. It can probably help boost the reach of this fic.
Anyway, I hope you share your thoughts in the comment section.
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**The End**
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