( A/N: Quick little note by me, this fanfic was sort of inspired by Overlord: Reborn as an NPC. Which in essence would also mean this was most likely inspired by Yellowness, although I am unsure as I never truly read it. So if you seem to be able to make some sort of connection in the early chapters, please don't worry as my story will become far more diverged. )
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[Nikitas Katariémai POV]
Many speak of Life and Death as if they're something to be feared. And yet, I can't entirely disagree. Now, nearing my own end, I feel the creeping fear of what lies beyond. Will I be trapped with the memories wedged in this thick skull of mine, or is something else waiting on the other side of the Styx? Who am I kidding; I'm lying to myself to soothe the fear gnawing at me.
I let out a chuckle, though each one brings a spatter of blood. Maybe they're right: we're born to fear death. The cold, clammy hand creeping up my neck tells me as much. And here I am, lying on this stretch of dirt in the middle of nowhere, all because I didn't pay back those Italian mobsters.
Fat bastards, all of them. I can't help but laugh, picturing one of them as the Penguin—short, plump, waddling around. How did he manage to stay in the game with that round build? The thought was absurd, but somehow it was exactly what I needed to laugh again, even now.
A second-generation Greek immigrant in the land of the "free." Freedom, my ass. This country is just an iron cage with fancy windows, and we're all rats who can't see the bars because we're too busy with our luxuries.
But really, what choice did I have but to take out a loan from the mob? The bank wouldn't even look my way, saying I didn't make enough. Seventy grand a year, but not enough to get help when I needed it. Now here I am, blood seeping into the dirt, ants crawling across my ruined face, my body.
And what can I do? Just lie here and wait for death from blood loss or starvation. No miracle's going to save me. The mob made sure of that when they left their "message" at my place—my family, flayed and nailed to the apartment walls. That sight broke me. I wept until I had nothing left inside.
No man, no matter how evil, should ever go after someone's family. It's common courtesy. But no. They were like rabid dogs and went after the people I loved most. So I made them pay, putting a bullet in each one of their heads. And where did that leave me? The luxurious middle of nowhere, Utah. Hell, I'm shocked they didn't dump me in the Grand Canyon.
If anyone had asked, I'd say I was just an ordinary guy. Sure, I was slightly above average in looks and grades, but not enough to stand out in job interviews or with women. Dating was a bust anyway—most were just after money. Money I didn't have. I scraped by on my nine-to-five, bringing home around fifty thousand after taxes.
Drool dribbles from my mouth. Is it getting hotter, or is this just the desert? Maybe it's both. But I wouldn't know for sure unless someone were here to tell me. Unlikely.
I'm getting tired. It'd be fine to close my eyes for a bit, right? Just a moment's rest after all I've been through. Darkness slowly embraces me. It's… calming, like being held by a motherly presence. I feel my body swaying with the current, as if I'm floating on the ocean's surface.
It's peaceful here. A calm smile spreads across my face as I bob in this strange "sea," which moves around me as though it's guiding me somewhere—maybe to the next life. Or maybe I'll simply fade away in this place. I wouldn't mind either.
I try to lean back, to float fully on the surface, but my body won't respond. I'm completely stiff, like a statue, trapped in something I can't break free of. It's as though I'm watching everything from a distance, like a pilot on autopilot gazing into the endless sky. Comforting as it is, boredom creeps in.
I want to move, to fight this lack of control that binds me. But no matter how much I struggle, my body won't budge. The "ocean" carries me onward through this darkness, to a destination I can't see.
How pitiful I must look. What would my father think? He always taught me to be in control of everything in my life, to make things easier to achieve. Yet here I am, helpless. Guess I didn't have as much control as I thought. I'd fooled myself, thinking I was playing the game when I was only a pawn in theirs.
He'd laugh at me—laugh at the hopelessness I had come to feel—for that was who he truly was: a man without an ounce of empathy, a researcher who used his children as subjects to test his understanding of the human mind. Yet in the end, it was he who fell, undone by his own insanity. How ironic, to be defeated by the very thing you thought you knew best.
I turned my focus to the light piercing through the darkness. Was this the infamous "light at the end of the tunnel"? I couldn't help but chuckle, knowing I was just building up my hopes only for them to be crushed in the end. Life was nothing like the fairy tales I'd been told as a child. Those tales had made me believe in the goodness of the world, in knights in shining armour—only to have that illusion shattered by the bleak reality I grew to see.
The world around me was grey and desaturated, like something out of Silent Hill. My parents had once told me Greece was even bleaker than these towering American skylines of steel and concrete. I knew they were lying; their eyes held nothing as they spoke about America and the dreams that supposedly awaited those who travelled here.
But I couldn't blame them. Most dreams people held were trampled the moment they set foot on American shores. You could never truly achieve wealth here unless you got impossibly lucky—and even then, someone else would likely swoop in and monopolize everything you'd worked to build. My mother had always been honest with me about that. Her own dreams had been crushed when her flower business lost its customers, a larger shop opening next door and selling cheaper flowers.
People always seemed to gravitate toward the cheaper things in life—it was simply human nature. From a young age, we're taught to save money, to avoid spending frivolously. I understand the sentiment, but I'd always prefer to spend a little extra to buy better-quality items rather than settle for the mass-produced, low-grade alternatives.
With a sigh, I reached out my hand—and this time, it responded. My arm stretched, finally connecting with the light before me. The moment my fingers brushed it, I felt myself being pulled forward, sucked in like dirt drawn into a vacuum.
For a moment, I was stunned. Was I really just a speck of dust about to be vacuumed up? I gripped my head, shaking it in denial. No, that couldn't be it—I couldn't be so vile as to deserve this fate. I refused to believe it.
Suddenly, my eyes were forced open, and a burst of light overwhelmed my senses, sending a sharp headache through me and blurring my vision. Somewhere nearby, I heard humming—soft but indistinct, muffled as though coming from behind a cloth.
My head jerked to the left, and a shock ran through me. I wasn't in control, yet I could feel everything. It was as if I were a soul trapped inside a golem, bound and powerless. This time, though, I saw him—a man clad in white armour. I recognized him instantly: Touch Me, a character from the guild Ainz Ooal Gown in the anime Overlord. He was one of the coolest characters I'd ever seen, even if he seemed a little cliché.
But why was he here? And what was he doing to me? I could only stare, my attention drawn to the intricate ornaments on his armour and the bright light in front of him—a screen, like the game's system. But why?
That's when I realized something strange—I couldn't speak. I tried to call out to him, but nothing happened. I had no mouth, no voice. He kept swiping through options on the screen, humming thoughtfully, oblivious to my silent horror.
Then, understanding hit me like a bolt of lightning. He was customizing me. Every time he moved a slider, I felt my jawbone reconstruct, shifting under some invisible force. The sensation was excruciating, but I was helpless—locked in this silent torment, unable to scream, unable to move, forced to endure each subtle twist and tug.
It was like torture. I was an unfinished creation, reshaped with no will of my own, while I sat paralyzed, unable to escape as if bound to a chair, piece by piece. As if I was a doll with multiple customisation items, but to use them they'd have to replace the piece in its original place.
I felt my arms extend outward into a rigid T-pose, muscles convulsing as they formed across my biceps and triceps. The transformation wasn't grotesque or exaggerated; rather, my body was sculpted with the solid, balanced build of a knight. Muscles took shape all over, more prominent in some areas than others, and with each spasm, my heart rate surged. The sting of the changes shot through me, and I couldn't help but wonder—why couldn't they put me to sleep for this? Why did I have to be awake? Questions whirled in my mind as I struggled to grasp the purpose behind the pain.
Suddenly, a door creaked open, and I watched as Touch Me turned toward the source of the sound. I wanted to shift my gaze too, to glimpse whoever had entered, but my body wouldn't obey. My view remained locked on Touch Me as voices began to fill the room.
"So, Touch Me, this is the NPC you're working on?" a human-sounding voice echoed around us. I couldn't quite place the speaker, but from the way Touch Me shifted focus, I guessed this newcomer held some significance—maybe it was Momonga.
Without my creator in sight, I could no longer witness their actions, but I listened closely, catching details here and there about my character.
"Yeah, he's a character I've wanted to create for a while," Touch Me replied, his tone carrying a hint of satisfaction. "Feel free to check out the panel. There's not much to it yet."
The other voice chuckled lightly. I could almost picture him nodding as he scanned my character page. "True. I can't believe you spent four hours on his appearance alone. Did you really have to skip our meeting for this?"
The conversation paused, and anticipation stirred inside me.
"No, but I figured you'd handle it just fine," Touch Me answered, his pride evident. "Isn't that right, Momonga?"
Momonga? As in THE Bone Daddy, Ainz Ooal Gown? He was here in this very room? The thought thrilled me—I could barely contain my excitement at the idea of someday interacting with him and possibly even making him squirm a little. Oh, I was going to have some fun.
After a brief silence, Momonga responded, his voice carrying a slight edge of defensiveness. "O-of course, I handled it fine. It wasn't anything critical anyway." He cleared his throat and returned to the topic at hand. "Is 'Capitano' really going to be his name? Isn't that a bit… lazy?"
I heard the scrape of a helmet as Touch Me gave a nervous chuckle. "Heh, well, I couldn't think of anything else, and this suits him well enough since I'm making him a general of Nazarick."
Footsteps approached, and soon I saw the towering skeleton before me. His red eyes glowed with a strange, flickering light, drawing me in, but I snapped back to reality as he began inspecting my built frame, his skeletal hands pressing against my newly formed muscles.
After a moment, he turned to face Touch Me, who stood behind him with arms crossed and a slight tilt to his head, as if smirking, silently inviting Momonga to appreciate his handiwork. "He's got a cool character design," Momonga commented. "Is he going to be close to Cocytus, since they're both warriors?"
Touch Me raised a hand to his helmet's chin, as if deep in thought, then gave a slow nod. "I'll have to ask Takemikazuchi, but he should let me go ahead with it." He dropped his hand and nodded again before shifting his gaze back to Momonga. "Got anything cool coming up yourself?"
Momonga hummed briefly, shaking his head before turning back to me. "What build are you going for with him?" he asked, sounding intrigued.
Touch Me coughed, pausing a beat before shrugging. "No clue." He shrugged again, and Momonga made a sound of exasperation that almost seemed like he'd spat in irritation. I couldn't help but chuckle at his reaction.
"What do you mean, 'no clue'?" Momonga protested. "Isn't he supposed to be a pretty important NPC?"
"Well, yeah," Touch Me answered, "but the build I have in mind is a bit… unconventional. It should still work, though." He rubbed the back of his helmeted head, producing a loud scraping noise as metal met metal.
Touch Me suddenly stared at me for a moment before clicking a button on his menu as the world around me suddenly turned black.
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Anyways I hope you enjoy this, it won't be that common as an update as Im just using this to try and remove a writer's block as of now. So chapters may take a week or two too come out at a time