[Unknown Location]

"HE CAN'T BE FAR. HE'S INJURED." I heard someone shout in the forest while I leaned against a tree in my combat gear.

'Looks like it's time for *ugh*... my date with Lady Death,' I thought, pressing a rag to my bleeding stomach.

I looked at my surroundings. In the darkness, I could only see trees and a bat with red eyes watching me from a branch.

'Guess I've finally lost it... whatever,' I thought, staring at the bat.

I picked up my gun from the ground and checked the magazine. Finding it empty, I carefully put my gun back on the ground so as not to make any noise.

I reached for my backpack, which was also lying on the ground, and took out a fairly powerful C4 from it. I was going to use it in my mission, if this mission wasn't a trap.

"I'm already dying, *ugh*... let's go out with a blast."

"THERE'S MORE BLOOD HERE. HE'S NEAR. STAY ALERT. DON'T UNDERESTIMATE HIM JUST BECAUSE HE'S INJURED AND OUTNUMBERED." I heard a man shout, closer this time.

'Looks like they are here, it's boom boom time.' I pushed myself up. But as soon as I got up, I began to feel lightheaded and shaky from the blood loss, but I gritted my teeth, left my tree cover, and saw a dozen armed men searching for me. Without giving them a chance to notice me, mustering my remaining strength, I threw the C4 at them.

*BOOOOOOOOOM!*

The explosion hit me with a shockwave and intense heat, slamming me against the tree behind me and breaking my bones. My body went completely limp, I coughed blood with pieces of my organs mixed in it, and I felt as if my whole body was burning, both inside and out. But strangely, I didn't feel any kind of pain.

My life flashed before my eyes. I was born as an orphan and raised by nuns until I was 8, only for them to sell me and some other kids to one of the most abhorrent and famous mercenary groups in the world, where I was trained to kill or be killed.

At the age of 13, I completed my first mission, where I took a life for the first time. It was an easy task, as my target was just a normal journalist who had published an article about a politician. Strangely, when I killed for the first time, I didn't feel anything other than slight discomfort.

I returned to headquarters right after completing my mission, and those fuckers at the mercenary group took me to a brothel to celebrate my first kill and forced me to fuck a whore while they watched and laughed when I couldn't even get hard.

After my first mission, it became the same shitshow. They assign me a mission, I go kill the target, come back, and forced to fuck a whore. Over time, I got used to killing, even the slight discomfort I felt at first disappeared. Killing became as natural to me as breathing.

We were forbidden to socialize with outsiders in any way to prevent us from leaking any sort of information due to being under the influence of different factors like drugs, alcohol, lust, and the most poisonous one, women. The only way I was allowed to socialize was with older mercenaries who were far more fucked up than me and the internet was the only thing keeping me sane or it fucked me up beyond redemption, I don't know. Until death, my life followed a single pattern: train, kill, fuck, play some games, watch some other shit, and look at memes.

Given the size and reputation of our mercenary group, it wasn't as though we were constantly scrambling from mission to mission. There were stretches of time—sometimes months on end—where I had no new assignments. That left me with an abundance of free time, and eventually, even the most indulgent vices began to lose their luster. Sure, there were nearly 200 hookers at my disposal, but after a while, the appeal dulled. Knowing these women were being passed around by everyone else left a sour taste in my mouth, one I couldn't quite shake.

During those lulls, I often retreated to the sanctuary of my quarters. There, surrounded by my consoles, PCs, an enormous flat-screen TV, and a phone and unlimited internet connection, I could disconnect entirely from the outside world. I didn't even have to worry about food—it was always taken care of. Immersed in this digital haven, I stumbled across some of the most bizarre, unhinged corners of the internet, the kind of content that leaves you questioning reality.

'Heh, what a fucked up life that I lived,' I thought as my vision started to fade.

"So this is it?"

My last memories of the fucked up life I had.

"Well, I like to ask for something better."

As his face was about to be engulfed, a confident smile appeared on his lips.

"Bring it on."

Silence

***

Ainz Ooal Gown was a notorious and feared guild in the game Yggdrasil, renowned for its formidable power and strategic prowess. Many rival guilds attempted to challenge them but failed to even breach the second floor of their impregnable fortress, the Great Tomb of Nazarick, due to the powerful NPCs defending it. The guild was founded by 41 players, all belonging to the unique heteromorphic race, which contributed to their distinct and fearsome reputation.

The guild's might was unparalleled, boasting members like the World Champion and the World Disaster. Their leader, Momonga, wielded a powerful world item that transformed him into a World Class Enemy, a secret he kept to himself for fear of having his account compromised by hackers.

Momonga and his guildmates achieved unparalleled feats of glory, triumphing over legendary foes that other players scarcely dared to face. They obliterated the Devourer of the Nine Worlds, eradicated the Eight Dragons, and brought the mighty Jötnar King to his knees. Their daring knew no bounds, culminating in an audacious assault on the celestial stronghold of Asgard. There, they stormed Valhalla itself, the fabled Heaven, leaving destruction in their wake. They cut down countless Valkyries and claimed victory over their queen, the indomitable daughter of Odin.

Their conquest did not end with the heavens; they ventured into the shadowy depths of the Underworld Realm, defying death itself. There, they confronted and vanquished its ruler, the Queen of the Dead—Hel, the fearsome daughter of Loki. These exploits etched their names into legend, their legacy becoming the very definition of dominance within the game.

Not content with mere destruction, they claimed the ultimate prize by not only slaying Jörmungandr, the World Devourer but abducting his only son as a trophy of their dominance. These conquests were so extraordinary that the developers themselves took notice, bestowing upon Ainz Ooal Gown two NPCs of immense power—entities so potent they rivaled even the guild's strongest warrior, Touch Me. Their achievements forever cemented the guild's legacy as legends within the game.

At the zenith of the game, the guild of Ainz Ooal Gown was regarded as an unstoppable force, their dominance so absolute they were deemed untouchable. Their home, the legendary Great Tomb of Nazarick, stood as an impenetrable bastion—an unconquerable fortress that no rival dared to challenge. This reputation was no mere exaggeration but a testament to the obsessive dedication of its creators, many of whom were fervent devotees of min-maxing. Every trap, guardian, and layer of the tomb was meticulously optimized to perfection, ensuring its place as the pinnacle of defensive strategy and ingenuity in the game. Even now, its legacy remains unmatched, a monument to the brilliance and ambition of its masters.

However, as time passed, the real world began to take its toll on the guild members. One by one, they left the game, unable to balance their real-life responsibilities with their virtual conquests. Momonga was left to face an inevitable and heartbreaking reality...

YGGDRASIL, the once-bustling DMMORPG, was moments away from its final shutdown. The virtual world that had hosted countless adventures, battles, and friendships was now eerily quiet. Momonga, the guild master of Ainz Ooal Gown, sat alone on his throne in the Great Tomb of Nazarick, the guild's base. He waited in the Round Table Room, a place that once echoed with the laughter and camaraderie of his friends.

"Only Hero-Hero, huh? Nobody else," Momonga muttered, his voice tinged with melancholy. The disappointment was palpable as he realized none of his other guildmates would be joining him in these last moments.

Rising from his chair, he reached for the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown, a symbol of their collective effort and triumph. The staff, an intricately crafted masterpiece imbued with powerful magic, was a testament to the unity and skill of his guild. Holding it firmly, Momonga left the Round Table Room, his footsteps echoing through the deserted halls of Nazarick.

He made his way through the labyrinthine corridors, each step filled with a sense of finality. The silence was profound, broken only by the soft hum of the magic-infused walls. Eventually, he arrived at the 10th floor, where a grand receiving room awaited. This room, a vast and opulent space, was designed to awe any who entered. It was adorned with lavish decorations, from grand chandeliers to exquisite tapestries, each detail meticulously crafted.

Standing at attention were the guardians of this sanctum: the butler Sebas and the battle maid squad, the Pleiades. These loyal NPCs, created by his guildmates, we're here to defend against any who dared to invade. Yet, no player had ever breached Nazarick's defenses to reach this floor. The irony of their vigilance in these final moments was not lost on Momonga.

"Follow me," he commanded, his voice steady and authoritative.

Sebas and the Pleiades fell into step behind him, their expressions unwavering. They passed through the room, crossing a large magic circle inscribed on the floor, a symbol of the guild's magical prowess. Ahead, the giant double doors loomed, each over five meters in height. These doors were a marvel, covered in intricate carvings that told stories of gods and demons. The left door depicted a beautiful goddess, her serene face and flowing robes carved with exquisite detail. The right door, in stark contrast, showed a cruel demon, its twisted features and menacing posture capturing the essence of malevolence.

Momonga extended a skeletal hand, touching the cool surface of the doors. With a low, resonant creak, the doors began to open of their own accord, revealing the mysteries beyond. As the light spilled out from the opening, Momonga felt a surge of emotions—anticipation, nostalgia, and a hint of sadness for the world that was about to disappear.

Momonga advanced through the grand room, his gaze naturally drawn to the two striking figures flanking the throne.

On the right side stood a stunning woman, her pure white dress highlighting her ethereal beauty. Her serene, faint smile was akin to that of a goddess. However, her otherworldly appearance was accentuated by the pair of curved horns that sprouted from her head and the black-feathered wings that emerged from her waist. This was Albedo, the Overseer of the Floor Guardians of the Great Underground Tomb of Nazarick, a role that placed her in charge of all the NPC Floor Guardians.

On the left side was another unparalleled beauty, dressed in a deep blue outfit that accentuated her impressive curves. A crimson cape billowed dramatically behind her, and she wore silver and blue armor that gleamed under the room's lights. Her long blonde hair was elegantly tied in a bun, and atop her head rested a golden crown, signifying her regal status. This was Artoria Pendragon (Lancer), the Vice Overseer Guardian. Despite her divine appearance, she was, in truth, a demon, with blood a Dragon and a Valkyrie in her. A stark contrast that made her even more intriguing and formidable.

Momonga paused before them, his skeletal face betraying no emotion, though a sense of pride swelled within him. These NPCs were not just creations; they were representations of his guildmates' creativity and dedication.

"Stand by," Momonga commanded, his voice resonating through the hall. Both Albedo and Artoria inclined their heads in acknowledgment, their expressions unwavering in their loyalty.

With the command given, Momonga ascended the final steps to the throne. Each step felt heavier than the last, weighed down by the memories of his friends and the impending end of YGGDRASIL.

Finally, he reached the throne and sat down, the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown resting across his lap. The weight of the staff was a comforting reminder of his guild's glory. He looked out over the room, at the loyal NPCs who stood ready to serve and protect. Despite the imminent shutdown, there was a strange sense of peace in knowing that he wasn't completely alone.

As the final moments of YGGDRASIL ticked away, Momonga felt a mix of sadness and anticipation. He closed his eyes, ready to face the end of this world and whatever might come after.

Then Momonga turned his face to Albedo. "What kind of backstory was she designed with?" Momonga wondered aloud. All he knew was that Albedo was the Overseer of the Guardians, the highest-ranked NPC in Nazarick. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a console and began scrolling through the details of Albedo's flavor text.

As he skimmed through the intricate backstory written by her creator, Tabula Smaragdina, a particular line caught his eye: "She is also a slut."

Momonga could not help but stare at the screen, his skeletal face somehow conveying shock.

"Huh, she is also a slut? What the hell?!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the empty hall. He read the line again and again, hoping that he had misunderstood or that it was a mistake. However, no matter how many times he re-read it, the sentence remained the same. He tried to ponder the reasoning behind such an addition, but he couldn't come up with any plausible explanations.

"Hmm, let's change it," he muttered, feeling a bit guilty but also resolute. He hesitated for a moment, then began editing the flavor text. "She loves Momonga," he typed, replacing the previous line. He took a step back to review his change, nodding in satisfaction.

"Umu, I think this is better. I hope Tabula will not be angry at me for this," Momonga mused. After all, it was a small modification, and it seemed more fitting to him. The altered text now reflected a loyal and loving character, which aligned better with the role of the Overseer of the Guardians.

Momonga turned his head to Artoria, who stood gracefully at his left side, her demeanor regal and composed. The Vice Overseer Guardian exuded an aura of nobility and strength that matched her imposing appearance. His curiosity piqued, Momonga decided to delve into her backstory.

"Hmm, what about her?" he murmured, summoning the console once more and beginning to scroll through her flavor text.

As he skimmed the intricate details crafted by his friend Blue Planet, one particular line made him pause.

"What the... 'She is madly in love with the Guildmaster Momonga'?!"

Momonga blinked in surprise, rereading the line multiple times. The notion that Blue Planet, known for his meticulous and serious nature, would include such a detail was bewildering.

"Uhh, let's leave it like that," he decided after a moment, feeling slightly flustered but opting not to alter it. He tried to push the thought from his mind, focusing instead on the task at hand.

He cleared his throat and addressed the NPCs with authority. "And the command is... 'KNEEL.'"

In an instant, every NPC in the throne room, including Albedo and Artoria, dropped to one knee in perfect unison. Their movements were fluid and graceful, reflecting their unwavering loyalty and dedication. Momonga raised his left hand to check the time displayed on his interface.

[23:55:48]

In the dimly lit chamber of The Great Tomb of Nazarick, Momonga stood before the glowing countdown on his screen, frustration etched on his usually composed face.

"Damn it, this is not fair," he muttered to himself, his voice echoing in the empty halls. "I've been here alone for two years, protecting this place, and not a single one of my friends bothered to come say hello."

He scrolled through his inbox, filled with unanswered emails to his old companions. The lack of responses only fueled his sense of abandonment.

"Well, of course, they'll choose real life," he reasoned with a bitter sigh. "But it was really fun, wasn't it?"

The digital clock on his watch blinked [23:57], casting a faint glow on his expression of resignation. The inevitable shutdown at midnight was a reminder of the transient nature of their virtual existence.

As the minutes ticked away, Momonga's thoughts drifted to memories of adventures shared, battles fought, and laughter shared with comrades who had long since moved on. He felt a pang of loneliness that no NPC or virtual world could assuage.

"I guess it's time," he murmured, preparing himself for the shutdown. "Back to reality, back to work."

[23:59:48, 49, 50]

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—]

***

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