Overlord: Welcome the Birth of the King

After a few scuffles with desert scorpions, Lyle and his Hellhound companion pressed deeper into the wasteland. Where there's life—however hostile, there's always the chance of something sentient.

Even the slimmest chance of intelligent life was worth the trek. Any information at all would justify this brutal expedition.

But this place… was dead.

The air was parched, the ground an endless stretch of sand and broken stone, and the sun blazed overhead without mercy. At noon, temperatures soared above forty degrees. Even the hardy desert scorpions were few and far between. Lyle had wandered for half a day before spotting a single one. It was as if the land itself rejected life—desolate, harsh, and unforgiving.

More troubling still was the complete lack of water. From the moment he'd entered this godsforsaken desert, not a single oasis, stream, or even cloud had graced the sky. The sun ruled unchallenged, bearing down like a tyrant.

The only way those scorpions were surviving, Lyle suspected, was through access to deep underground water.

Thankfully, he'd come prepared. His inventory contained enough water pouches for days, and if those ran dry, he still had the enchanted Wine Cauldron of the Lizardmen—a jug that, once filled, could slowly refill itself over time.

On the seventh day of his journey into the Gobi-like sands, Lyle wiped the grit from his clothes and took a long swig from a pouch. His throat felt like sandpaper.

He lowered the pouch and handed it to the panting barghest beside him.

"Rrrgh~" the hound whined, tongue lolling out, clearly unfit for desert travel. With its thick fur and instincts honed in forests, it was suffering in the heat.

"You're doing well. Just a bit more," Lyle said, emptying most of the pouch into the barghest's mouth and giving it a rough pat on the head.

The hound lapped up the water gratefully, then shimmered—its form shifting into that of a large grey hawk. With a screech, it took to the skies, wings slicing through the hot air.

Lyle sealed the pouch and surveyed the horizon. Nearby, a squat black rock stood half as tall as a man. He approached and pressed his palm to its rough surface.

"Magic Mark."

Every few kilometers, he'd leave a magical imprint on prominent landmarks. It was a way to track his path and avoid getting hopelessly lost in the endless desert. With enough imprints, he could even use them to triangulate his position.

But the moment his hand lifted from the stone, the ground began to tremble.

"…What?"

Lyle's eyes narrowed as the rock beneath his hand started to shudder violently. The surrounding sand followed, forming whirlpools of loose grit swirling toward the center.

He leapt back instinctively, landing several meters away.

Thoom. Thoom!

The sand collapsed inward around the black rock. The rock began to rise, shifting and morphing into—

"A face?"

The upper half of a humanoid head emerged, and with a thunderous roar, two massive arms burst from the ground. An enormous figure, five meters tall and forged entirely of black stone, dragged itself free from the sand.

It stared down at Lyle with blank, stony eyes.

And then, it struck.

A stone arm, thick as a tree trunk, swung toward him with brutal force.

"It's alive?" Lyle grinned with genuine surprise as he dodged, kicking off to the side. "Now this is interesting!"

BOOM!

The ground where he'd stood exploded under the weight of the blow, sand erupting in every direction.

"All-Race Charm!"

He flung out a spell—his best chance at identifying this creature as a sentient species. It was the first vaguely intelligent lifeform he'd encountered here. This wasn't the continent's northwest, where humans ruled. Most of this land was controlled by demi-humans and bizarre species.

In a place like this, strange creatures were the norm.

The spell's magic pulse raced outward, sweeping over the stone giant—and did absolutely nothing.

"…Huh?"

Another massive arm came crashing down. Lyle jumped again, landing nimbly nearby.

"No effect?" His brow furrowed. "Must be immune to mental manipulation. Some rare species are resistant to charm effects."

He flipped back again, still dodging with ease. "Sorry if I woke you up, friend. No offense meant. Just trying to figure out where the hell I am. Talk, maybe?"

BOOM!

BOOM!

The stone giant responded with more furious swings.

"No words? Or maybe you're not intelligent after all." Lyle's eyes narrowed. The thing showed no sign of emotion or recognition. It was like fighting a golem with rage issues.

Then, it paused.

The giant hunched down, limbs retracting inward. Its massive body compressed—and then launched forward, now in the shape of a gigantic rolling boulder.

"Oh, great."

It barreled straight toward him with terrifying speed.

"Well, if you're not here to talk…"

Lyle sighed, stepping forward. As the black boulder cast a long shadow over him, he summoned an iron sword into his hand. The moment the monster was within striking range, he slashed.

Screeeech!

Sparks flew as blade met stone, the momentum halting mid-roll. The boulder skidded past him, then stopped.

Lyle turned, sword still in hand. Not a scratch on him.

"Only level 20 or so," he muttered. "All that bulk, not much brain. But that rock armor wasn't bad."

[You've gained 3,271 EXP]

[EXP: 11,162 / 120,000]

A loud crack! echoed behind him. The giant's body shattered, split down the middle. Chunks of black rock clattered to the sand.

Lyle turned, inspecting the remains.

No blood. No organs. Just stone and more stone.

But at the center of its chest cavity, something faintly glowed.

He walked over and picked it up—a fist-sized black gem, warm to the touch, pulsating with earthy energy.

"Item Appraisal."

[Item: Heart of the Stonekin]

Tier: Intermediate (Level 21–30)

Effect: Contains condensed earth-elemental energy. When planted underground, there is a chance it may birth a new stone giant.

Description: "I'm not dead yet!"

Lyle gave the item a once-over, then tucked it into his storage. Not bad—solid magical material, and a complete surprise.

"I'll need to leave another marker."

Since the original stone had become a corpse, his last magic mark had been erased. He glanced around, looking for a new rock.

Above, a flicker in the sky caught his attention.

The hawk—his barghest, was returning fast, wings beating hard. Clearly it had found something.

And then—he felt it too.

Something… alive.

Eyes brightening, Lyle turned toward the source of the disturbance.

Roughly five kilometers away, a small wooden cart was creaking its way through the desert. It looked absurdly out of place. Three short figures were dragging it in front, while two others pushed from behind.

Each of the five stood barely five feet tall, but were all thick with muscle, backs straining under the effort. The cart itself was piled with rough-hewn ores and rocks.

After dragging the load for some time, they finally paused, panting.

"Wonder if the fighting near the oasis is over yet."

"Heh. Against those unarmed buffoons? Doubt it."

"Call that a war? Please. Those filthy mongrels shouldn't even be allowed in the oasis."

"Right! Our real enemies are the scum in Shadowvale. We'll rebuild our kingdom—take back what's ours!"

"Actually, I heard an old legend—"

"Shut it."

"Don't waste breath on fairy tales, idiot."

Their grumbling continued, voices echoing faintly over the dunes.