Overlord: Welcome the Birth of the King

Slane Theocracy.

Dawn broke with a blood-red sliver of light cutting through the eastern sky's darkness.

Click.

The heavy doors of the Grand Temple's council chamber creaked open a narrow crack, and two figures stepped out in quick succession.

Leading the way was a black-haired youth. His face still bore the softness of adolescence, but right now, it was twisted in frustration. His steps were loud and forceful, each one deliberately pressing deeper into the stone floor, leaving uneven imprints behind.

A heavy, almost suffocating aura radiated from him.

Trailing behind him was a girl cloaked in the flowing white robes of a priest. Strands of messy silver hair poked out from beneath her loose hood, and weariness hung on her delicate face like a damp cloth.

Waking someone in the middle of the night to cast multiple large-scale spells was bad enough. But when it involved the confirmed death of a teammate? It was a miserable shift.

"Captain, I'm heading back," the priestess muttered as she pulled the heavy door shut behind her. Her voice was soft, as though not wanting to provoke the sulking boy walking ahead.

She knew full well why he was upset. Quaiesse's location of death had been confirmed hours ago. Yet only now were the two of them leaving the chamber, which meant one thing: the High Priest and the Six Pillar Cardinals had no intention of deploying the Black Scripture to respond.

Astrologer 'Chisato' suspected that the more stealth-oriented Windflower Scripture or the Clearwater Scripture had already been dispatched long ago.

Moreover, the higher-ups had written Quaiesse off.

The entire overnight meeting had spiraled into discussions not about recovery, but damage control. The main concern was that if Quaiesse were resurrected, he might leak Theocracy secrets.

In fact, there was a theory that his resurrection was the ploy of an unknown enemy targeting the Theocracy. And this theory was supported by the fact that Astrologer Chisato's magic had completely failed to detect the identity—or even number—of Quinn's killers.

Someone had used anti-detection spells.

With a faint grimace, Chisato glanced back at the council doors. The elders were likely still debating what intel Quaiesse had access to, and preparing countermeasures accordingly.

Not her problem.

She let out the softest sigh and thought, 'Let them handle the bureaucratic mess.'

At least the enemy didn't seem overwhelmingly strong. If they were, they wouldn't have gone to such lengths to cover their tracks.

"Hm. Alright," the black-haired boy muttered.

His steps slowed, and he forced a smile onto his scowling face, nodding slightly at Chisato's words.

As the captain of the Black Scripture, he knew a bit about everyone's abilities, but not much beyond that. Not because he wasn't interested—but because he thought most of them were weak. He could crush them all single-handedly if he wanted.

Quaiesse had been the exception. Not because he was particularly strong, but because he was good at paperwork. He made a fantastic stand-in when he couldn't be bothered to manage the squad.

He had stormed off to find the Earth Cardinal, hoping to get Quaiesse's coordinates so he could rush to the scene himself.

But instead? He got stuck in meetings, blocked at every turn.

Apparently, he wasn't allowed to act because "there's a Dragon Lord in the Azerlisia Mountains."

Dragon Lord?

Was that supposed to scare him?

Chisato noticed the shift in his mood and gave a polite bow before slipping away into the shadows of the outer hall.

She had barely stepped outside when she noticed a golden-haired woman standing nearby, beaming like a cat that had just spotted a mouse.

Ninth Seat – Windstride.

"Yo, Silver-Haired Cutie," the blonde called cheerfully. "I heard my dear brother got killed."

'Another troublesome one…' Chisato thought.

"My condolences," she replied flatly, barely slowing her pace.

The blonde's smile only widened, flashing perfect white teeth. She fell into step beside Chisato, her tone far too chipper for the topic. "Come on, tell me—how'd he die?"

Back at the temple doors, the black-haired boy finally emerged again, having tamped down his frustration.

The sun had fully risen now, casting its fiery glow over the temple courtyard.

'Hm?'

He looked up sharply. A figure had appeared ahead—someone who hadn't been there a moment ago.

It was a girl.

Striking, in a very unsettling way.

Her hair was split cleanly in two colors—silver on one side, jet black on the other. Her eyes matched: one silver, one black, each opposite its corresponding hair color. She looked about fifteen or sixteen, but he knew better.

She carried a cross-shaped scythe slung over her shoulder and stared at him with absolute apathy.

Not calm. Not blank.

True disinterest. Like nothing in this world could bother drawing out even a yawn from her.

And yet, just standing there, she pulled the air inward around her like a silent black hole, warping the atmosphere.

She hadn't aged a day. In all his memories, she had always looked exactly like this.

"Wanna spar, old-timer?" the black-haired boy suddenly grinned, as though he'd finally found somewhere to dump his building frustration.

"Alright," she said simply, lips curving just slightly.

Five Days Later – Lava Zone.

A fifty-man squad wearing basic gray-blue uniforms and veils over their faces trudged into the lava fields, their bodies radiating exhaustion and silent urgency. Dust and heat clung to them like a second skin.

"Captain, the Lord's coordinates placed Quaiesse's last location right here," one member reported, slightly breathless. The oppressive heat didn't help, especially not with their sweat-locking gear.

"Group Enchant: Fire Resistance Up," murmured the captain, raising his hands and chanting.

A warm red glow washed over the squad, immediately taking the edge off the suffocating heat.

"Search the area," he ordered, his voice firm.

At once, spell after spell ignited through the formation.

"There's lingering magic!"

"Signs of combat!"

"Residual divine-type energy!"

"Traces of a large creature!"

"…No signs of departure."

A flood of half-formed clues began pouring in, painting a blurred and disturbing picture.

Behind the veil, the captain's brow furrowed.

The other signs made sense. But no signs of departure?

"Captain," the vice-captain spoke up. "Analysis suggests there were two attackers. One was a divine spellcaster. The other, a warrior."

That didn't surprise him.

The Black Scripture didn't accept weaklings, and Quaiesse was known for tactical group combat. Taking him down wouldn't be a solo act.

"The most likely scenario is that, after killing Quaiesse, those two were attacked by a large creature," the vice-captain continued flatly.

"You're saying… they died here too?" the captain asked, frowning deeper.

The vice-captain didn't answer. The evidence wasn't clear enough to say for sure.

RUMBLE.

A surge of lava burst from a nearby magma lake, sending molten rock flying into the air.

A massive fire dragon emerged, its body glowing with magma, wings unfurling as it hovered above the seething lake.

"Humans!"

The dragon's roar shook the entire region.

The squad froze in place, terror spreading like wildfire.

Now they understood exactly what kind of "large creature" the attackers had run into.

"RUN!!" the captain screamed, his voice cracking under pressure.

In an instant, the gravity around them warped as the dragon's pull took hold.

Several members were yanked into the air and hurled straight into the lava below.

"AAAAAH!"

Their bodies ignited mid-air, consumed by the unbearable heat before they even touched the surface.

Meanwhile – Elsewhere.

A land shrouded in choking black smoke stretched endlessly beneath a dark sky. The air reeked of sulfur, and smoking volcanoes loomed in every direction.

From one of those volcanic rivers, a glint of orange shot through the lava.

A red-scaled, bizarrely shaped fish darted against the current.

With a sudden, powerful surge from the next eruption, it launched itself out of the lava like a missile.

As it rocketed down the molten cliffside, it twisted mid-air, catching the heatwaves with eerie grace.

Then—flash!

The creature transformed midair, landing roughly as a man in charred robes.

"Ahh! Dammit!" he hissed, wincing as the pain of his semi-cooked flesh caught up to him.

Lyle hovered into the air with a flicker of magic and hissed through clenched teeth, "That damn fire dragon and the anglerfish are definitely in some weird relationship!"

"And seriously—what the hell is this place?!"