[The First Day of Destruction, 6:30 PM][Inner Sanctum: The Eye of the Water God]
"May the Six preserve us..."
The prayer trembled on Zephira Alouette Linnet's lips, a fragile sound swallowed by the oppressive atmosphere. She clutched the fabric over her heart, her knuckles white against the vestments.
Outside, the sun was bleeding out against the horizon, casting long, bruised shadows that stretched like grasping fingers across the sanctum floor. The air inside the "Eye of the Water God" did not merely hum; it screamed. It was a frequency too high for the ear to capture, a dissonance that vibrated in the teeth and marrow of every priest present.
Shannon O. Vian, the Deputy High Priestess of Water, stood at the precipice of the luminescent pool. Her face was a mask of porcelain and grim resolve, underlit by the churning, magical waters.
"Hold the formation!" she commanded, her voice cutting through the rising tide of panic. "Focus your mana entirely upon the four Miko Princesses! Maintain the Golden Ratio! We must complete the Divination of the Deep before the last light fails us!"
The ancient stones of the pool pulsed, greedy and rhythmic. They were drinking deep of the life force of the elven sacrifices bound at the water's edge, fuel for a desperate glimpse into the future.
Standing guard was Clemence Paxley Votive, Captain of the Black Scripture. To his subordinates, he was a statue of absolute martial confidence, a bulwark of the Theocracy. But beneath that stoicism, his nervous system was firing wildly.
In his pocket, the prayer beads of hard jade had long since been ground into dust by the pressure of his grip. Now, his hands clenched the cold, black shaft of his primary weapon: The Weeping Raven, a spear that radiated a holy, biting frost.
Please, Clemence begged silently, his eyes darting to the darkening skylights. Just give us a sign. Let the Black Scripture be wrong. Let there be hope.
.
.
.
"Oh? What a fascinating collection of sheep."
The voice did not come from the entrance. It did not come from the shadows. It seemed to bypass the ears entirely, manifesting directly inside the brain. It was a sound devoid of moisture, like dead leaves skittering across a tombstone, the sound of a throat that had rotted away centuries ago.
Clemence's heart slammed against his ribs. His instincts forged in blood and broken bones under the Extra Seat's brutal tutelage, screamed a single word: Death.
He snapped his head upward.
Perched atop one of the pristine white marble pillars, silhouetted against the dying light, sat a nightmare given form.
It was skeletal, but not of the brittle, yellowed bone common to low-tier undead. Its frame was polished obsidian, gleaming with a wet, oily luster. Its anatomy was a mockery of the humanoid form, four skeletal arms, each ending in fingers that resembled surgical instruments rather than phalanges.
It wore a tattered, ancient wrap that seemed to writhe in a nonexistent wind. Strapped to every inch of its dark chassis were blades, knives, kukris, serrated spikes, glinting with cruel intent. A heavy chain, thick with iron thorns, was wrapped around its torso, the end twitching in the air like the tail of a scorpion.
Purple fire burned in its eye sockets, looking down at them with an emotion more terrifying than hate: amusement.
When? Clemence's mind reeled. The detection wards? The holy barriers specifically keyed against the undead? How is it already inside?
"An Undead...!" Clemence hissed, his body coiling like a viper preparing to strike.
"The ceremony is compromised! Abort!" Shannon shrieked, her professional mask shattering into terror. "Paladins! Wall formation! Get the Princesses to the inner bunkers!"
The steel-clad defenders moved instantly, shields clashing together to form a wall of holy metal between the pool and the pillar. It was a maneuver drilled hundreds of times, flawless in its execution.
"Oh, a ritual?" The creature tilted its skull, resting a chin on one of its four hands in a mockingly human gesture. "How quaint. Scrying? Warding? Or perhaps a final, desperate prayer to gods who have long since stopped listening?"
The mockery was heavy, oppressive. The creature radiated an aura of casual superiority, a spiritual pressure that made the air feel like sludge.
"It matters not," the creature said, standing upright on the narrow pillar. "My name is Eternal Death. I am but a humble dagger in the hand of His Majesty, the Sorcerer King Ainz Ooal Gown. I have been sent to harvest this city. And the quota begins with you."
The last sliver of the sun vanished. Darkness claimed the sanctum.
In that instant, Eternal Death leaped.
"He's gone!"
Clemence tracked the trajectory, but at the apex of the jump, reality seemed to glitch. There was no sound, no displacement of air. The monster simply ceased to exist.
Invisibility? No! High-Tier Stealth! [Perfect Invisibility]?
Clemence didn't look. He couldn't trust his eyes. Relying purely on the danger sense drilled into him by the Scriptures, he pivoted, thrusting his spear blindly into the empty air behind the paladin line.
CLANG!
The impact numbed his arms to the shoulders. Sparks showered the marble floor as his holy spear collided with a solid, invisible force.
The air shimmered like a heat haze, and Eternal Death flickered into view, crouched low like a giant obsidian spider. Its four arms were splayed wide, each gripping a dagger in a reverse hold.
Behind it, five elite female paladins stood motionless.
They didn't scream. They didn't fall immediately.
Then, gravity caught up.
It was a masterpiece of gore. They hadn't just been cut; they had been dismantled. Armor, flesh, and bone slid apart at impossible geometric angles. Their heads spun through the air, expressions frozen in mild confusion, eyes still blinking as they hit the floor. The wet slap of meat against stone was the only sound in the room.
How? Clemence's mind roared. It parried a chaotic strike and butchered five high-level paladins in the same heartbeat? The difference in power is absurd!
"Emil! Now!" Clemence roared.
"I'm on it! [Time Turbulence]!"
The world warped. Colors bled together into greyscale. The falling blood of the paladins slowed to a crawl, hanging in the air like rubies. The screaming of the priests deepened into a guttural drone. Emil, the Second Seat, had triggered his Talent, accelerating Clemence's personal timeline relative to the world.
In this hyper-speed reality, Clemence charged.
Valerius flanked him, his holy greatsword erupting with blinding white light a beacon meant to incinerate the unholy.
This thing is a monster, Clemence realized, his spear tip glowing with lethal intent. It is not a mere spawn. It is a calamity. If we don't stop it here, the Holy City is Going to be a graveyard.
He closed the distance. The Spear of the Weeping Raven hummed, eager to drink darkness.
"Hmph?"
Eternal Death made a sound of genuine curiosity. Its purple eye-flames flared brighter.
Does it see the weapon? Clemence thought, a savage grin touching his lips. Good. Fear it. This is the legacy of Surshana!
He thrust a strike meant to pierce the heavens.
"Too slow."
The creature didn't retreat. Its four arms became a blur, a curtain of silver steel under the moonlight.
CLASH! CLASH-CLASH-CLASH!
The sound was a singular, deafening note. Even with time manipulated in his favor, Clemence couldn't break through. He was being pushed back by a storm of daggers. Shallow cuts opened up all over his body—his cheeks, his arms, his legs not from direct hits, but from the sheer vacuum pressure of the creature's swings, tearing the air itself.
[Point of View: Deputy High Priestess Shannon O. Vian]
Shannon watched, her blood turning to ice, as the First Seat one of the strongest humans in the Theocracy, was toyed with like a child fighting a gale.
The clashing of steel was a distant ringing in her ears. What dominated her senses was the sudden, suffocating cold.
It wasn't a temperature drop. It was the physical presence of the End.
"Retreat! Into the water!" Shannon screamed, grabbing the youngest Miko Princess by the wrist. "Everyone, into the pool!"
As she pulled the girl, a wave of invisible energy washed over the sanctum.
It was a silent wind, carrying the scent of old dust and dried flowers.
The hundred forest elf sacrifices lining the room didn't scream. They simply... stopped. Like marionettes with their strings severed by an invisible blade, they collapsed in unison. No wounds. No struggle. Their souls were simply extinguished.
The remaining guards followed. Then the maids.
Then, the Earth Miko Princess, who had been lagging, stumbled.
"No... wait!!" Shannon gasped.
The Miko hit the stone face-first. She didn't move to break her fall. Her eyes were wide, glassy, staring at nothing.
Wide-range Instant Death.
Shannon's gorge rose. The creature wasn't even attacking them. It was simply existing, and its existence was incompatible with life.
"The pool! Get in!" Shannon shrieked, dragging the sobbing Miko into the waist-deep water. "The consecration! The holy water provides a buff against status effects!"
Those who reached the water survived the instant death, but the torment was far from over.
"Gah!" Shannon doubled over, clutching her chest.
Pain, hot and jagged, ripped through her veins. It felt as though her blood was turning into acid. She looked down at her hands; the skin was greying, withering rapidly like parchment left in the sun.
Instant Death... and a Curse of Decay?
It was a dual-layered aura. If you resisted the death check, you were subjected to a corrosive rot that drained strength, mana, and vitality.
"It hurts! High Priestess, it hurts!" the Miko Princess wailed, her skin pale as ash.
They were trapped in a cage of water. If they left the pool, they died instantly. If they stayed, they would rot alive.
Despair, black and heavy, clawed at Shannon's throat. She looked at the carnage—the segmented pieces of the paladins, the piles of dead elves, the First Seat fighting a losing battle against a multi-armed demon god.
We are going to die here.
The thought was clarifying. The fear didn't vanish, but it froze into a sharp, brittle resolve.
If we are to die, we will not die as cattle. We will die as martyrs.
Shannon's eyes, bloodshot and weeping, locked onto the remaining Miko Princesses.
"We have no choice!" she screamed over the din of battle. "The barrier won't hold! We cannot run! We must strike!"
"B-but High Priestess!"
"Do it!" Shannon roared, raising her staff. "Miko Princesses! Offer your mana! Offer your life force! Activate the [Grand Ritual: Seventh Trumpet of Heaven]!"
The Miko Princesses, seeing the madness and death surrounding them, nodded. They formed a triangle in the water, hands clasped.
"Summon the Guardian! Bring forth the Shield of the Gods!"
The chanting began. It was not the gentle prayer of healing, but a harsh, guttural invocation of war.
"Oh, Lords of the Silver City! We offer this mana as flesh! We offer this life as blood!"
The water in the pool began to boil. A pillar of golden light erupted from the center, blowing the roof of the sanctum apart and piercing the night sky.
Shannon felt her mana being ripped from her core. It was agonizing, like bleeding out from the soul. But she poured more in.
"The Seal is broken! The Horn sounds! Descend, O' Warden of the Gates!"
The golden light solidified. The air smelled of ozone and burning sanctity. The pressure of the summon was immense, pushing back even the necrotic aura of Eternal Death.
Above the pool, reality tore open.
From the rift, a massive entity slowly descended. It was a being of geometric perfection and terrifying holiness.
It possessed the head of a roaring lion, a body of polished living armor, and four magnificent wings that dripped with particles of light. In its hands, it held a massive standard a flagstaff that doubled as a spear, topped with a banner made of white, holy fire.
The sheer density of good-aligned mana radiating from it was suffocating. It illuminated the night like a second sun, banishing the shadows the Eternal Death had brought.
[Summoning Complete: Cherubim Gatekeeper — The Lord of the Flag]
The Level 80 tank-class Angel let out a resonant hum that shattered the stained-glass windows.
Shannon fell to her knees in the water, gasping, her vision blurring. They had done it. The highest-tier summon available to their station a miracle that required the life force of nations to invoke.
"Kill it!" Shannon pointed a trembling finger at the obsidian skeleton. "Purge the unclean!"
Author's Note
(1)"Eternal Death" refers to the type of undead mentioned in the volume 10 of the original Overlord light novel. The concept of "creating higher-level undead" and the stacking method tied to it are also referenced in the same context in the source material.
(2) The divine realm known as the "Eye of the Water God" was described in the web novel version of Overlord. Its depiction here is inspired by that earlier version of the setting.
Thank you so much for reading. This chapter is darker than usual and includes graphic violence and death, so please keep that in mind.
The story has been getting more views lately, and I truly appreciate the support. That's why I decided to release an extra chapter today. If you enjoyed it, please give POWER STONES and leave a comment, your support and feedback really motivate me....
50 POWER STONES AND A EXTRA CHAPTER TOMORROW OR TODAY?