A Theory on Godhood: An Overlord Story

Chapter 14: We Interrupt this Transmission

Ugh... my head... where the hell am I?

Ever-present throbbing pervaded his every motion, making it nearly impossible to move comfortably without bringing a fresh wave of pain. Metallic shackles rankled against his wrists and ankles, allowing him to dangle off of a wall like the first kill of a hunt.

A subtle breeze wound through his privates, causing him to shiver as he realized that he was left completely exposed to the elements, not even a sack cloth shirt to protect his modesty.

A bright line shone in his face, forcing him to open his eyes and then shut them to defend against the harsh beacon shoved against his senses. He grunted, and managed to slightly turn his head away.

SLAP!

He gasped, the ferocity of the blow more like a sucker punch than an actual backhand. His head was jerked in the opposite direction and his jaw dislocated, leaving his mouth gaping in a slackjaw expression. A gauntlet shot out, from what he could see past the light, and gripped his jaw in an iron clamp. It righted his jaw with a singular POP!

"How are his vitals? Is he fully conscious now?"

"Yes, my lord. He appears to be regaining consciousness at a steady pace. He should be fully awake within the next moment or two."

"Hmm... and what about the other one?"

"She should be awakening momentarily as well, but this one here should make for a fine conversation to tide you over until then."

The light turned off, and he was able to slowly open his eyes to gaze at the ones who had just spoken. The area was significantly darker than he had expected, and so it took his eyes a moment to fully adjust to the shadows which permeated his immediate surroundings.

There was, thankfully, some dim lighting to speed up the process, and he was able to see the back of a massive, shining form walking away from him towards a simple wooden throne.

It pushed a red cape that flowed over its left shoulder like a waterfall out of the way as it sat down and faced him. What surprised him the most was the sheer amount of holy energy that emanated from it. It was a reservoir of warmth that both soothed and set him on edge, and one that was both alien and familiar all at the same time.

It wore platinum armor that looked as if it could take a cannon to the chest and shrug it off without so much as a scratch. Polished to perfection to catch the most minuscule of light motes across its surface.

A deep blue crystal sat embedded in the direct center of its breastplate, and there were intricate designs etched into the armor itself to add complexity and decoration. This armor covered it head to toe, and even the kilt it wore around its waist was plated with the same metal.

Its face was obscured by a full helmet, the eyes covered by a strange, waxy glass that reflected his battered and haggard face right back at him. Whoever it was, they had an abundance of wealth and power to spare, if its outfit was anything to go by.

"Oh good, you're awake now," the figure spoke, towering over him even sitting down in the primitive throne. "I kinda knew you were coming to, but it's always nice to see it for myself."

He said nothing, holding his breath so as to not anger the warrior in front of him. His mind was curiously blank on the details, but his flesh quivered from the memory of agony that his mind could not.

"Nothing to say for yourself? No 'Where the hell am I?' or 'What's going on here?' to help yourself out?"

Again, he responded only with silence.

The figure sighed and bent forward to let the dim lighting show him off better. He could detect that it was a male, if only because the deep and commanding baritone rattled his bones with each word.