Hello, this is my first time writing a fanfiction. 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. Let's begin the story!
Word Count: 3600 Words
Note: Just a reminder that I've changed the Guild Auxiliary chapter. I've made some changes to it. I've removed a couple of NPCs and added a few.
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The Root, New World,
Overlord Verse.
As World arrived at the Guild's entrance, her gaze swept over the sprawling grounds of the Guild Compound. Lined up in perfect formation, rows of Golem Knights stood vigil, their towering forms gleaming under the filtered light. Every movement was disciplined and deliberate as they secured the premises, ensuring their Vice Guild Master's visit was both safe and comfortable.
Upon her arrival, the knights stiffened in unison, their metallic frames clanking softly as they gave her a bow. They pledged their unwavering loyalty to the Supreme Ones and the one called the Voice of the Supreme Ones—World herself.
She gave them a curt nod of approval, noting with quiet satisfaction the contrast between their disciplined precision and the chaotic energy of her own entourage. Though the Children of Yggdrasil lacked such coordination, each one among them was a Level-100 NPC, holding rare classes with power that rivaled even dungeon bosses.
They moved with the freedom born of immense strength, and despite their differences, they followed World with loyalty and purpose.
World halted her advance as Artoria stepped forward, blocking her path with an almost imperceptible shift. World's gaze sharpened, sensing the subtle tension in her guard's stance. Curious, she followed Artoria's line of sight, and her eyes landed on an unexpected sight.
There, before a lifeless bodies sprawled across the ground, stood Terror Blade, the enigmatic Floor Guardian of the 14th Floor, Tenebrous World. Flanking him were Leo and Akira Fudo, the Area Guardians of his domain. The trio stood solemnly as Terror Blade exchanged words with the Cosmic Armored Knight Commander, their conversation guarded but intense.
Noticing the shift in the atmosphere, Scathach stood still observing them, ready in case a fight broke out unlike Artoria, who stepped forward to block World's path. Her body tensed, prepared for anything. Meanwhile, Arcueid, who had been idly lingering at the back of the group, had vanished without a word. Alice, noticing her disappearance, scanned the area with mild irritation, only to find Arcueid already by the bodies scattered on the ground, inspecting them with unabashed curiosity.
Alice sighed at the recklessness of her companion, though she wasn't surprised. 'It's just the kind of thing she would do.' Despite World's explicit orders that no one should touch the corpses, Arcueid had sauntered over without hesitation and was now speaking casually with Leo, as if the tension didn't exist at all.
Standing beside World, Alice cast a sidelong glance at Scáthach and Artoria, both of whom remained wary and alert. Yet Alice herself was unconcerned. Regardless of their varied personalities and quirks, they were all bound by one thing—their purpose to serve the Supreme Ones. Their very existence was a testament to that devotion, and their lives were tethered to the Fool above all else.
However, there was one exception—Terror Blade. His loyalty, once unshakeable, had walked the razor's edge between devotion to the Fool and the Root. And now, as Alice observed the subtle tension simmering between him and the other Guardians, it was clear that old wounds hadn't yet healed.
Scáthach's sharp eyes remained locked on Terror Blade, her distrust evident. Artoria, too, held herself like a coiled spring, ready to strike if necessary. In contrast, Morgan le Fay stood with relaxed poise, unbothered by the tension swirling around them. Her confidence in her own abilities radiated effortlessly. Raiden Shogun stood similarly composed, her aura exuding a quiet, imperious pride that mirrored Morgan's. Their every action radiated arrogance.
Alice mused silently, watching them. 'They are the very embodiment of pride—untouchable and unapologetic.'
Her attention returned to Terror Blade, and she let out a slow, quiet sigh. 'His actions back then have left scars that run deep.' Decades had passed since the event, yet it was clear that some of the Guardians still hadn't forgiven him. Nor had they forgotten.
Then, without a care in the world, Arodes strolled lazily past the group, as if the tension were nothing more than an amusing sideshow. Alice shot him a sharp look, but he ignored it, his carefree demeanor grating on her nerves. 'He's always like this—finding amusement in everything, even when the stakes are high.'
Alice's gaze drifted back to World, curious about how she would react. To most, World's expression would appear as still as a porcelain mask. But Alice had spent long enough by her side to catch fleeting glimpses of emotion beneath the surface. And what she saw now was unexpected—amusement. It wasn't just Alice, all of Children of Yggdrasil had spent enough time with World to understand her emotions.
A faint flicker of satisfaction touched Alice's thoughts. 'So, it's just as I thought. She finds this entire scene... amusing.' It was just like World, their True Creator.
Her mind wandered back to the chaos Terror Blade had sown in the past. When the Fool vanished, leaving a gaping absence in their lives, it was Terror Blade who succumbed to despair and borderline craziness. That emptiness had driven him to desperate lengths. Though every Guardian had felt the void left behind by the Fool, TerrorBlade's pain was toxic—more consuming, enough to put the Root in a dangerous situation.
His actions had crossed a line. In his desperation, he had manipulated the Guardians, turning them against World. She had kept the Guardians confined within the Guild walls, believing it was the only way to maintain order in the Fool's absence. But to Terror Blade, that restriction was betrayal. He led a resistance from the shadows, maneuvering from the safety of his own floor, seeking any way to summon the Fool back—even if it meant tearing the Root apart and sacrificing every Guardian to do so.
'I understood him then,' Alice thought. 'That's what made it dangerous.'
Terror Blade's despair was infectious, and every Guardian could relate to it in some way. It made them doubt themselves, doubt their purpose. Was their loyalty to the Fool, to the Root, or to World herself? That uncertainty had shaken them all, making them vulnerable to Terror Blade's influence.
And yet, despite the lingering discord, Arcueid and Arodes acted as though nothing had ever changed. As if the betrayal, the doubt, the division—they were all things of the past. Alice couldn't help but wonder. 'How can they behave so normally? As if everything is perfectly fine?'
The tension lingered in the air, thick and palpable. But through it all, World remained still, her expression unchanged, her amusement flickering like a secret only she understood. And with every passing moment, the question deepened in Alice's mind.
'How long will this fragile peace hold? And when will the Fool return to us?'
---
Floor 22: Key of Light
The Root, New World
Nestled within an unassuming landscape, the floor known as the Key of Light lay hidden behind jagged mountains that encircled it like a fortress. The terrain within this realm was cloaked in an endless, enchanted night, where a vast dark forest stretched in every direction. The woods were treacherous, riddled with arcane traps and interwoven with layers of illusion magic, making even the most skilled intruders lose their way.
At the heart of the forest stood a colossal maze, winding endlessly toward a central tower that pierced the heavens. The tower loomed tall, its silhouette stark against the eternal night. Above, the sky of this floor was a dazzling tapestry—strewn with countless stars and adorned by multiple moons. Chief among them was a giant red moon, perpetually suspended in the sky, casting its eerie, scarlet glow upon the land below. Unlike other floors, where day and night ebbed in harmony, night reigned supreme here, unbroken and eternal.
At the topmost level of the towering spire lay the Throne Room a place of solemn grandeur. Its circular hall was framed by pillars of marble that gleamed ghostly white beneath the moonlight. Statues of Bruce, frozen in his various Avatars, stood silently at the hall's edges, their flawless surfaces catching the light of the moons above. These statues seemed less like mere adornments and more like sacred relics, casting long shadows across the hall's polished floors.
At the far end of the room rested the Giant Dark Throne, an imposing seat carved from an obsidian-like material that seemed to swallow light itself. Upon this throne sat a Demon—perfectly humanoid in form and size, save for the unsettling nature of its presence. Its entire body was clad in an immaculate black suit, with gloves concealing every inch of flesh. Yet, the head it bore was not made of flesh or bone but a swirling mass of black fog, shifting endlessly, refusing to hold a solid shape. Two glowing white flashes where eyes might have been—whether they served any purpose beyond decoration, none could say.
This was the Laplace Demon, the Floor Guardian of the 22nd floor. His expertise lay not just in magic, but in the arts of divination, eldritch magic, summoning, and mind magic. Though both Laplace and Arodes were masters of divination, Laplace surpassed him in prophecy, wielding it as both a class and an art. He ruled with a presence that demanded silence, and thus silence ruled the floor like a monarch.
---
After the Incident,
Following the tense confrontation between Artoria and World, peace had finally returned to the Guild. The unsettling ripple of doubt and discord that had shaken the Guardians was soothed, and with World's dedication to both the Guild and the Fool laid bare, the Guardians had recommitted their loyalty to her without question.
With order restored, each Guardian had returned to their respective floors, retreating into solitude to oversee their domains. In the absence of shared presence, a quiet truce prevailed—an unspoken agreement to remain within their realms and avoid visiting each other's territories.
Laplace Demon, who had observed the unfolding events in silence, now stirred upon his throne. His gloved fingers tapped lightly against the armrest, the sound soft but deliberate. Then, without raising his voice, he spoke:
"Watcher."
The single word echoed faintly through the air, summoning the only other being who shared dominion over the 22nd floor. Unlike other floors that boasted multiple Guardians, this one held only two: the Laplace Demon and the enigmatic Watcher, an entity whose form was as elusive as a dream. The traps and enchantments woven throughout the forest ensured that intruders had never made it far enough to glimpse either of them.
The air above the tower darkened, as storm-like clouds gathered, coiling around the spire in answer to Laplace's call. Shadows swirled and twisted as the Watcher materialized from the gloom, an inky presence waiting silently for its master's command.
Laplace rose from his throne with unhurried grace and teleported to the rooftop of the tower, where the full expanse of the forest stretched out below him like a living labyrinth. The red moon's baleful light bathed the landscape in shades of crimson and black, creating an otherworldly beauty that was as mesmerizing as it was foreboding.
Standing atop the tower, Laplace gazed down upon his domain with detached calm. His voice, smooth as a whispered curse, drifted into the night air.
"Go beyond the Guild." His words carried the weight of inevitability, a command that left no room for misinterpretation.
He paused for a moment, exhaling softly, as if weary from the weight of unseen burdens. "There are idiots stirring up trouble. See to it that they calm down."
From within the folds of his dark suit, Laplace produced a scroll—a parchment. He tossed it toward the swirling clouds of the Watcher's form.
"And deliver this to the Mother," he added, his tone quieter, almost thoughtful. "Only to her. No one else."
The Watcher accepted the scroll without a sound, its dark presence dispersing into the blackness of the Evernight. It vanished like smoke carried away by an unseen wind, slipping silently into the endless night that enveloped the floor.
"May the Fool protect you.", Laplace words lingered, as it was the last words Watcher heard before disappearing.
Laplace remained on the rooftop, standing alone beneath the red moon's unblinking gaze. He folded his arms behind his back, his expression unreadable as he stared into the horizon. The forest below shifted and sighed under the weight of his silent observation, as if the very landscape itself could feel the presence of its master.
With the Watcher gone, Laplace allowed himself a moment of stillness, his thoughts drifting like the stars scattered across the night sky. He would need to reinforce the floor soon. Intrusions, no matter how small, could not be tolerated. But for now, he lingered in the quiet, savoring the fleeting tranquility of the Evernight.
In the depths of the 22nd floor, where illusion blurred the line between dream and reality, the stars whispered truths hidden from mortal sight, Laplace waited. He knew better than anyone that the night could not keep its secrets forever.
'And when the stars aligned just right, and the Fool returns. Oh! Master your servant awaits your return. You whose form and existence dwarfs all of creation.'
---
At the entrance of the Guild, the tension between World's guards and TerrorBlade's entourage was palpable. Neither side made a move, both locked in an uneasy standoff. Weapons remained in hand but not yet drawn, like wolves baring teeth but waiting for the signal to pounce.
TerrorBlade, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, turned to find World herself standing at the threshold. With fluid precision, he moved forward, accompanied by the Cosmic Armoured Knight, the subtle weight of their collective aura bearing down on the scene. Both knelt before her—TerrorBlade lowering his head as if in reverence, while Leo and DevilMan, the Area Guardians at his side, followed suit, bowing low to acknowledge her authority.
Even with their show of loyalty, the tension hung thick in the air, like the calm before a storm. Saber or Artoria kept her hands on the hilt of her sword, the slightest twitch in her grip betraying her readiness to strike. Beside her, Scathach gripped her spear, poised to sever heads the moment the need arose.
Alice, alert and watchful, stood ready to join the fray at a moment's notice, her eyes flicking between allies and potential enemies. In contrast, Morgan le Fay and Raiden Shogun remained statuesque, their expressions betraying nothing—merely silent observers radiating confidence, as though the entire matter amused them. Enkidu and Jeanne d'Arc flanked World's sides, like twin guardians, ready to unleash their wrath at the slightest provocation.
Arcueid, unbothered by the undercurrent of hostility, strode past the others. She moved with urgency in her steps, though the ever-present smile on her face made it difficult to discern the seriousness of her intent. Without hesitation, she approached World. The others watched with guarded eyes, but Arcueid paid them no mind. Even Arodes, standing nonchalantly behind the Cosmic Armoured Knight, seemed content to watch the proceedings with his usual air of detached amusement.
When Arcueid reached World, her tone was calm, her demeanor relaxed. With a glimmer in her eye, she extended her hand, revealing a locket resting in her palm. "Look what I found on that man, Mother," she said, passing the object to World.
World's expression remained neutral, but within her mind, recognition struck like a bolt of lightning. 'A World Item.'
'The Cosmic Eye of Cxaxukluth,' her thoughts whispered. This item was no ordinary trinket—it was a World Item, designed for magic casters. Its lore was both extraordinary: it allowed its bearer to cast any spell in existence, regardless of the wielder's race or class, so long as the caster had prior knowledge of the spell.
The pieces of the puzzle snapped into place, and a new understanding dawned. This was how they had managed to breach the barrier of the Guild, bypassing even the defenses of a World Item. The realization left a flicker of surprise on her face, visible only to those sharp enough to notice.
Contemplating her next move, she shifted her attention to TerrorBlade, who awaited her response with unwavering composure.
"You may speak, TerrorBlade," World intoned, her voice carrying the weight of unyielding authority.
TerrorBlade rose slightly, just enough to meet her gaze without breaking protocol, and pledged his loyalty to World and the Supreme Ones once more. His voice was steady, reverent—but the tension that simmered among the Guardians told another story.
"May the Scarlett King Protect you." he spoke as he continued. "TerrorBlade at your Service, oh the Voice of the Supreme Ones. This Demon pledges his loyalty to the Supreme Ones."
With the DevilMan and Leo nodding along with him.
Artoria, standing rigid and unforgiving, was the first to speak, her tone sharp and filled with suspicion. "Loyalty is easily claimed, but trust must be earned."
Scathach followed, her voice as cold as winter steel. "Your words are pleasant, TerrorBlade, but your actions cast a long shadow. What assurance do we have that you will not betray us again?"
Enkidu's green eyes gleamed with quiet intensity, his gaze unwavering. "It's not betrayal we fear—it's the path you choose to walk. One misstep, and you wish to destroy and tear downthe Root."
Even Jeanne d'Arc, who seldom voiced her doubts, spoke with solemnity. "Loyalty without clarity is dangerous. We fight for the Supreme Ones, yet you sought to twist that purpose for twisted reasons."
The tension deepened with every word, the distrust among them surfacing like cracks in a fragile wall.
TerrorBlade, however, remained composed under the weight of their accusations. His eyes, burning with quiet conviction, never left World's. Though his past actions had sown discord, there was no doubt in his heart where his loyalty lay now.
World observed the exchange with detached interest, her mind calculating every nuance. Arodes shifted slightly, a subtle grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, sensing the potential for chaos and mischief. Yet even he remained silent, content to see how events would unfold.
Amusement flickered briefly across World's face, a rare expression that only Arodes caught. Among the chaos, he was standing close enough to notice the subtle shift, felt a strange mix of satisfaction and concern.
He mused silently to herself. 'It was inevitable that they would doubt him. After all, TerrorBlade nearly succeeded in turning us against World in the past. His desperation to find the Fool… it consumed him, made him reckless."
TerrorBlade's actions, though extreme, had resonated with the Guardians in ways they could not deny. Each of them had felt the emptiness gnawing at their hearts after the Fool's disappearance. And TerrorBlade, with his fierce determination, had only voiced what they all feared—that their purpose without the Fool was meaningless.
Yet it was TerrorBlade's manipulation of the Guardians
and his attempt to defy World that had nearly destroyed everything. His misguided efforts had forced the Guardians to question their loyalty—to wonder whether they served the World and the Root or the Fool alone.
'He walked the line between salvation and destruction,' Arodes thought grimly, 'and now we are left to pick up the pieces.'
As the tension crackled in the air, a dark cloud appeared coiling, blocking the moon light from the Guild. Drawing everyone's attention to itself, its voice boomed as it spoke "Enough."
Its voice was calm, but the weight of his presence was undeniable. The Guardians fell silent, though the tension between them did not fully dissipate.
It continued sensing the silence.
"We are in the presence of the World, the Voice of the Supreme Ones. The True Creator of the Root. Servant of the Great Fool, the Master of the Root and all us guardians."
Though it did hit a nerve for all those present to be told by, from a mere Area Guardian. Yet they remained silent. To them, it wasn't a matter of pride or arrogance that called this feeling. It was Watcher's break of protocol, set by the Fool and World.
The hierarchy designed by The Fool and World was more important to them than their life.
So, when it broke the rule. It infuriated them. Yet they remained calm, knowing it was right.
Having silenced them, and getting their attention. The Watcher continued.
"May the Fool protect you. My lady, World. You bless this insignificant being by blessing it with your presence."
World surprised by his intervention, nodded at it.
Watcher continued after the acknowledgement it received from World. "Lord Laplace has sent me here to pass this message to you. Since, he is busy with reinforcing the floor, it pangs his heart that he couldn't make it here himself."
World received the scroll from Watcher. Sensing its gaze, she nodded at it.
"There is no need to apologize Watcher. It was I who has tasked all the Guardians to reinforce the Guild. Give him my greetings."
"It will be done my lady."
With the sound of its gratitude, the dark cloud dispersed. Leaving them with regret and anger at both the Laplace Demon and the Watcher. They both were outliners and nonchalant. Who didn't bother with the structure of the Guild and only reported to the Fool and World. Their loyalty running deep, only to the Fool and their creator World.
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**The End**
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