A Theory on Godhood: An Overlord Story

Chapter 59: Idealized Desolation

Everything felt so cold. Everything was so dark. Her entire body ached with sharp stabs, phantom pains from before. Her mouth felt dry, full of cloth and smothering her tongue. Where was she? Was she dead?

Blearily, her eyes opened a crack. She moaned in pain from a bright light in front of her, exacerbating a throbbing headache she became aware of. Ringing in her ears muffled out distant voices. Others. There were others there with her, but it was all too much at once. She couldn't make out anything yet.

Cold metal wrapped around her neck, her wrists, and her ankles. She was locked in place, swinging chains clanking in the open air. She was in a kneeling position, with her arms stretched out to either side. The collar she wore seemed connected to her manacles, keeping her tied up as some sick puppet for her vengeful captors.

No, not vengeful. Justified. I am not dead. I would not be hurting so much if I was. That must mean I am imprisoned.

A trio of voices came into focus, all male. They were debating something from the sounds of it, perhaps her imminent death. After all the suffering she caused, she half expected never to wake up again. The people of Carne did not deserve her carnage. They did not deserve her wrathful nature. It was good she lived so that she could be punished.

"-then she will serve a useful purpose keeping the others in line. Tinkering with her memories was fruitful, though dangerous. Nubo and Wish III extracted much with their combined efforts. Her memories led us directly to her little mountain fortress."

"I still think we should consider the extenuating circumstances. From what Enri and Nfirea said, she had a change of heart mid-battle. She realized what was going on and tried to stem the tide. I know it's not much but it is something to consider."

"That is surprising to hear from you, Touch Me. With your sense of justice, I am disappointed you do not leverage for a harsher punishment like you did with Clementine and Nigun."

"The fact you don't either, Ulbert, means you agree with me. Momonga, how do you want to play this?"

"Why don't we ask the girl herself? I believe she has been waking up for some time now. Would you kindly remove the cloth from her mouth?"

A pair of hands, clad in metal gauntlets, gently pried the fabric that was stuffed in her mouth. The light that hurt her eyes dimmed as well, allowing her to see more. Blinking rapidly, the identity of her jailers was revealed. She swallowed nervously when she recognized two of them.

The noble from Alenbonne, with the rose label on his shoulder, was present. Rather than a well-mannered human man, he was a gigantic, shaggy goat man with a flaming crown hovering between his curled horns. His outfit was much the same otherwise, as excruciatingly decadent as before.

A new figure was there, dressed in silver plate armor that made her old set look haggard in comparison. The ruby-red cape and massive sapphire-embedded chest plate spoke of obscene wealth as well. His face was covered by a helmet that was noticeably non-human, but she could not tell if he was another species like the nobleman.

Both were situated on either side of a painfully familiar being, seated on a simple wooden throne. The massive spines for pauldrons, the exquisite royal-purple robes, and the flaming red eyes set in the empty sockets of his skull. To not recognize this person would be an insult, especially since she spent the last couple of months conquering villages in his image. His statue was carved by hand by him, after all.

"Y-you're him," she croaked weakly, "You are the real Weeping King. The one I've been giving offerings to all this time."

The "Weeping King" titled his head. "You are very much mistaken, young girl. I am Momonga of Ainz Ooal Gown, and your patron has greatly displeased my friends and me. You too. There is a lot of blood on your hands."