Chapter 1: Echoes of Awakening
The vast halls of the Great Tomb of Nazarick were filled with an eerie stillness, broken only by the subtle hum of power radiating through its enchanted walls. Ainz Ooal Gown, the sole remaining member of the once-mighty guild, sat upon his throne in quiet contemplation. The loyal NPCs crafted by his comrades surrounded him, their unwavering devotion now frighteningly real.
Above ground, the sunless world outside Nazarick stretched into a landscape unknown, a new frontier for Ainz and his subordinates. But far below, hidden in the labyrinthine depths of Nazarick, something ancient and forgotten stirred—a shadow that had slumbered through the ages.
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The Chamber of Silent Eternity was unlike any other part of Nazarick. It was a place untouched by time, abandoned even by its creators. Its walls, carved from obsidian and etched with glowing runes, seemed alive, pulsing faintly as though in tune with some distant heartbeat. Shadows pooled unnaturally in its corners, swallowing what little light the runes provided.
In the center of this chamber lay a solitary figure—a man clad in a black overcoat and suit, his form unnaturally pristine despite the centuries of neglect surrounding him. His face, handsome yet cold, was framed by locks of dark hair that fell perfectly into place.
This was Valtherion.
For years—perhaps centuries—he had lain dormant, a relic of Yggdrasil, forgotten by even the gods of Nazarick. Yet, as the world shifted and the omniverse bent to a new reality, something stirred within him.
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His awakening began as a faint flicker of light, the runes on the chamber walls flaring brighter with each passing second. The still air grew dense, heavy with an unseen energy that crackled like distant thunder. Valtherion's form remained still, his chest unmoving, as though life itself hesitated to claim him.
And then, like the first breath of a dying ember reigniting into flame, his eyes snapped open.
Twin orbs of black and violet stared into the darkness, their intensity enough to pierce the veil of shadows. He inhaled sharply, the sound echoing like a gasp from the grave, and his body shuddered as though struggling to remember the concept of motion.
The silence that followed was deafening.
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"What is this place?" Valtherion's voice emerged hoarse and uncertain, like a blade dulled by disuse.
He sat up slowly, his movements deliberate and cautious, as if testing the very boundaries of his existence. The chamber around him felt alien yet familiar, its design reminiscent of the Yggdrasil dungeons he had once explored. But something was different—something deeper, more profound.
His gaze fell to his hands, pale and unscarred, yet trembling faintly. They felt unfamiliar, as though they belonged to someone else. A memory stirred in the back of his mind: a time when those hands had wielded power, when they had crafted plans and strategies to outwit foes in the digital world of Yggdrasil.
And then, nothing. A void.
"What… happened to me?" he murmured, his voice steadying with each word.
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As he rose to his feet, his polished black shoes clicked against the stone floor, the sound reverberating like a declaration of his return. The glowing star on his back flared to life, casting shifting patterns of violet light across the walls. Its energy thrummed in rhythm with his pulse, a constant reminder of the omniverse's presence within him.
Valtherion took a step forward, his stride growing surer with each movement. The chamber seemed to react to him, the runes on the walls shifting and rearranging themselves like an ancient language coming to life. Shadows moved unnaturally, coiling and uncoiling as though bowing to their master.
"This place…" Valtherion whispered, his voice now filled with quiet wonder. "It's not just a chamber. It's a prison… and a throne."
The omniverse whispered to him, fragments of truth bleeding into his consciousness. He saw flashes of the past—the days of Yggdrasil, the guild of Ainz Ooal Gown, and the sprawling creation that was Nazarick. He saw the moment the world changed, when the omniverse's will collided with reality, and the boundaries of the digital and physical shattered.
And in those visions, he saw himself.
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"Forgotten," he said, his voice laced with bitterness. "Buried in the depths of this tomb like a discarded tool."
He clenched his fists, the star on his back flaring brighter in response. "But not anymore. If this is the new world, then I will claim it. Not as their puppet, but as its master."
Valtherion began to explore the chamber, his steps deliberate and measured. The air seemed to shift around him, carrying the faint echoes of long-forgotten voices. He reached a towering pedestal at the chamber's center, its surface etched with intricate patterns that seemed to ripple like water under his gaze.
A glowing crystal rested atop it, pulsating faintly in time with the runes on the walls. Valtherion extended a hand toward it, feeling its power resonate with his own. The moment his fingers brushed its surface, a torrent of energy surged through him, and the chamber dissolved into light.
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Visions flooded his mind, each one more vivid than the last. He saw the history of Nazarick unfold before him: the glory of Ainz Ooal Gown, the loyalty of the NPCs, and the guild's triumphs in Yggdrasil. He saw the New World, its kingdoms ripe for conquest and its inhabitants blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in Nazarick's depths.
But most importantly, he saw the vulnerabilities. The cracks in Nazarick's foundation, hidden beneath layers of loyalty and power, were now laid bare before him.
"Loyalty is a double-edged sword," Valtherion mused, his lips curling into a smirk. "They follow Ainz without question, but that makes them predictable. And predictability is weakness."
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Above him, the Great Tomb of Nazarick was alive with activity. Ainz Ooal Gown's voice echoed through the halls as he issued orders, his mind racing to comprehend the new reality. The NPCs moved with purpose, their once-scripted actions now guided by sentience.
Valtherion observed them through the omniverse's whispers, his gaze narrowing as he studied the Floor Guardians.
"Demiurge," he murmured, his tone thoughtful. "Cunning and ambitious. He'll be difficult to sway… but not impossible."
"Albedo. Devotion bordering on obsession. That's her weakness."
His mind moved like clockwork, dissecting each Guardian's strengths and weaknesses, turning them into pieces on a chessboard. He lingered on Ainz last, his smirk widening.
"And the king of this grand stage… blind to the shadows gathering beneath his throne. You're powerful, Ainz, but even kings can fall."
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The crystal's light faded, and the chamber returned to its former state. Valtherion turned away from the pedestal, his stride purposeful as he made his way to a hidden passage that had revealed itself in the wake of his awakening.
The walls whispered as he passed, their voices a chorus of secrets and possibilities. The omniverse's energy coursed through him, filling him with a sense of destiny.
"This world is a stage," Valtherion said, his voice echoing through the corridor. "And I will be the one to write the script."
He vanished into the shadows, his presence fading like a ghost. For now, he would remain unseen, watching, learning, and waiting.
But when the time came, Valtherion would emerge—not as a forgotten NPC, but as a force that even the omniverse itself could not contain.
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End of Chapter 1