Ainz floated above a dead world. But soon a definite shift set in the air.

The Avatar was no more. The Crawling Chaos no longer held a tight hold over the world.

Ainz cast his spells, and the light banished the darkness. He ordered Cthulhu, and she scoured the earth for every abomination brought here from the abyss. Afterwards he banished her at last and healed the planet. The rifts closed, the lava hardened, and the acid was washed away.

A wish later…

Lush vegetation covered the lands, and the Sun smiled down onto the earth.

However, the people were still missing. The countless summons searching under heaven and earth could not find many survivors, nor souls. According to them, there were no more than a handful, and those weren’t humans, not even by a long shot. Ainz wrecked his brain, he had to think of something.

Resurrection. That was the solution. He had to resurrect everyone; however, he could not do so. While hypothetically he was capable of such a feat, he needed to have a connection to those he wished to resurrect. He could not resurrect a complete stranger whose body was missing, he would have no idea where to look for his soul.

Those he knew he called upon, “Rise, and walk the earth once more!” but the spell failed.

There could be but one explanation. Their souls were not yet free, they were out of reach.

The Overlord grumbled; he had no choice. He would have to go to the source if he were to free his people. But just then he sensed something. He disappeared and reappeared within the great tomb.

The strange presence was standing right before the Overlord.

“Congratulation, Lord Gown. It was a magnificent display of strength.” The voice rasped.

“Hastur, the information you’ve provided proved value.” Ainz said. “As a reward I’ll forgive your earlier transgression.” He offered, he had bigger problems to deal with.

The family of tentacles moved uneasily underneath the yellow cape, while the darkness of the hood seemed to suck in all light. “Y̶͇̔̉͆̕͜ỏ̷͚̭̦̜̉ǜ̴̫͝͝…” The Yellow King began, “ẙ̷̺̇o̴̭̠͐̀͘ŭ̸̗̈́͠ ̵̦̉ḓ̴̤̅͛͘̕ȍ̷̧͚͇͒n̸̬̈̄̿’̸̛̺̦̣̍͜t̵̛̠̀ ̸̧͉̪͓͂̒͐̊p̶̛͔̼̼̔̐̎l̴̰͔̰̙̑͊a̸͓̻̽͝ͅn̶̟̬̐ ̷̣̘́̉̇t̸͍̩̦̃o̴̟̗͆͝ ̷̳͝f̴̧̫̩̽͒́͒o̶̟͍̠͚͒̈́l̶̳̾́͛ͅl̸̤̀o̷̗̽ͅẘ̴̨̠͖̬̓ ̴̡̡̻̯͝N̷̨̲̱̝̾y̷͊̐͜a̷̛̜̣͙̔r̸͕̈̅͠l̸̳̀ą̸̛͈̭̜̒͋t̸̗̮͇̺͆h̸͍̼͉̿̄͘o̴͓̪̾̇͆͠t̴͎̼̿́̍è̶̝͚p̸̡̙̠̜̉̕ ̶̱̙̝̿i̴͔͋͂̅̀n̵̡̳̳̈͋́t̶̫̂͜ó̶̫̦̉ ̴̡̫̬̃̀̏͝t̴̥̮̻͑́͝h̴̙͐̇͘e̷̛̟̊̈́̚ ̴̞͔͓̻́V̷̨͇͗͒o̵̫̻̐î̶̜͝d̶̯̪͗͝ͅ,̴̯̔ ̴̘͎̥̚d̸͎̬͗̋o̸͚̎̽̓̕ ̶̮͎̟̩̈́̇̕y̵̖͐͌͛͠ò̶̲͆̕u̷̜̹̾?̶̫͗̔̈̍ ̸̧̠͛̽̎”

The white wisps of flame danced slowly, “What choice do I have? I cannot let him keep them!“ Ainz shouted, for a moment his hopelessness seeping into his deep voice. It did not go unnoticed.

There was a long pause before Hastur removed the talisman hanging around his neck. The Yellow Sign on it glowed ominously, while he held out the pendant, offering it to the Overlord.

“T̷̛͕̬̾̚ą̸̲̻̂͐k̸̬̗̩̐̿ͅẹ̴̉͐̏ ̷͓͕̿́t̶̗͍̊̊h̶̛̝̫̙̟̓̀̿i̴̩̰͇̫̇s̵͎̠̮͊̽.̵̠͎̑̎͜ ̴̱͍͖̜̀Ŵ̸̯͔̂h̵̜̬͗́͒e̴̺͆̀̀͝n̶̛͚̱̩͖̐̽̌ ̸̧̮̠̎̓͝a̶̰̬͗l̶͈̣̦͋̈́͠l̴̰̣͒̀ ̵̢̫̳͘h̴͇͙̏̀̆͝ŏ̴̗̮̱p̸̞͓͎̞̆̽e̸͉̬͆͝ ̴͚͙̠̃i̴̥̩̟͇̐̾͑́s̶̲͕̏ ̵̬̈́́͝l̶͚̜͓̃̉͊ǫ̶͙̼̾̇͛̎ṣ̸͌̏t̷͇̻̍̐,̴̺̺̜͛ ̴̦̗̠̂̃͝ͅl̴̠̣͍̿͊͋̈́ē̷̡̤̐͜͝͝t̸͔͙͘͜ͅ ̶̙͉̇t̶͉̯͒h̶̡͙͓̑́̈́̕͜i̷̡͍̣͎͋s̵̠̰̤̬̓̑͘ ̸̟̮̖͈͋̑͊͝l̴͉͚̈́͒̽̊ȋ̸̝̙͂g̷͔͍̙͆h̵̩͉̹͓̄͂t̷͔̆́̔͠ ̴̘͔̗̉̍̈́ÿ̷̳́͊͜͠o̶̳̥͓̻͋̂̎͛u̷̖͙̓͐r̶̹̅ ̶͍̫̥̹͛w̸̘͓̭̉̾ͅa̴̘͈͓̎͐͝͝ͅÿ̵̘́.” The Prince of the Great Old Ones said, and Ainz received the talisman with slight suspicion, but he remained silent, and accepted the gift.

“Thank you, may we meet again.”

“Ÿ̶̖̙̻͓́̈̓̉͘̚e̵̻̓͛̆̃̀̆̄͝s̵͎̟͇͖̪̭͌̂̇͒͝,̴̫̝̮̦̎͂̕ ̵̢̺̬̤̓̎̓w̴̹̹̰͜͝͝ẹ̶̡͙͠ ̵̧̩̉̽̆w̷̟̩̖̝̺͖̉̑̈́̿̅͗́i̸̘̖͈̿͊́̄̃̅̆l̷̞͖̙̞̄̑̂ḻ̶͓́̀̎͊͗̇͝.̸̤͓̌̿͐̌̂̆̊͘.” And with those words space collapsed around the Yellow King, and he made his exit.

Alright, it’s time to prepare. Ainz thought and took inventory once more. He would have to pull this off… somehow. He might have to use THAT.

(…)

Where all of space-time conjoins, the All-in-One watches over past, present, and future.

He who is the Key and the Gate, spawn of the Nameless Mist.

The Opener of the Way who lurks at the threshold, overseeing all those that pass through.

He knows where the Old Ones broke through of old, and where They shall break through again. He knows how it all began, and how it all will end. He is one and he is many. He is the Beyond.

Yog-Sothoth set his sight on an Overlord before it shifted to an inconceivable chamber beyond time.

Nyarlathotep is playing yet again…

I can’t have him leave HIS side.

I guess… I’ll give a hand to that skeleton. If he goes there, HE will stay put.

The viridescent bubbling spheres shook and reformed, a malformed mouth resurfacing.

“Ǎ̶̧̢̧̧͈̳̯̖͗̈̀͑̂̀̓̆͝ì̶̡̨̗͈̠̺̪̦̝̼̍̆͌͌̔̅́̿̕͝ṇ̸̜̰̣͉̎́̈́͊̅͂̃̊z̸̛̦͚̔̌̇̆̓́̾͌̑͋̊̐̽͝ ̷̗̭͛̐͑̽͠Ợ̷̧̡̫̖̖͎̩͍͖͐̈́̈́͂͂̂̓̇̐͛͝͝ơ̴̲͆̈́͗̒̌̈́̍́̚̚͝͝a̵̢͖͐̓̃̓̀̉̚͠l̸̥̥̍̄̑͂́͌̑͒̈͌̕̕ ̸͖̹́͂Ģ̴̛͖̬̗͖̺͉̋̋̒ȯ̶̢̨͕͉̯̗̼̜̇́̆̓̄̎̋̚͜͝w̸͈̰̥̓̽̂̾̒͋̑̈́̍n̸̢̲̫̩͓̘͔̗̄̐̃̉̉̄̎̅̆͂́̊͘͝,̶̛͇͈͖́̉̃̏̈̑͐̔͜͠ ̷̘̥̻̳͖̎̀̊̎̌̄͌͗̐̀͐̽̕ī̵̢̮̩̤̰̫̩̼̘͈̍́̈́͜͠͠ͅf̵̢̠̱̲̹͎͖̦͍̀͆̔ ̴̛̘̰̻̝͇͕̲̯̥͍̄͒̄̀̂̈́̈́̆̀̌̕͝͝ÿ̷͙̤̙͕̮́̄̅́̃͆͘̚͘ȏ̸̧̞̥͖͓̳͇̻̗̻͔͉͖̟̏̃͠u̷̢̮̗̝̺̦͇͔̒̒̔̐̔̆̓̍̈́̚̕͝ ̴̨̧̛͙̭̱̙̗̈́͆́̓̐̈́̂̒̐̆͘ͅa̶̦̰̹̎̇̒͑̿͗́̅̚r̷͈̣̊́e̸̘̩̪̤͖̤̠̗͍̋͐̒̽͗̽̋̀̿̕͠͠ ̸̧̡̺̫̯̗͙̓̈́̿̚͝r̷̛̛̘͚͍̪̗̣̱̲̍̆̎̆̋́̋̆͆̈́͜͝͝e̶͚̼̝͕̮͍̻̖̱͕̙͊͌̒̽̆͛̃͑̌̑͘͘̕a̴̺͙̺͖͕̖̎͒̃͘͝d̴̨̧̙̺̣͇͎͈̯̦͚̭̲̘̈́̐̀̌͋͗̊ÿ̵̭̮̦͖́͌̈ ̴̮̿̋̑̊́͘͠͝͠c̷̥̲̖̦̘͐̕ä̷̧̨͓̘͖̹͉̜̠̞͕́̀͌̓l̴͇͎̻̮̤̘̤̇͂͋͑̾̋̓̃͜ḽ̷̤̲̟̱̜͖̦̹̆̐͗̌̈́̏̈͋͐̄͜͝͝ ̶̥̫̞̥̤͚̆̆̀̈̕o̷͉̯̝͔̺̙̙͖̰͍͌̽̂̈́͒̃̔̈͒͆̅͗͘̕͝ͅu̶̲͆̋̌̄̍͛̒̌̓͊̂͠t̷̹͕̥̻̥͕̃̃̅̽̾̈́̎̆͌̅̇̇̈̕ ̸̡̞̥͛̆̓́̏̋̍̉́͛̑̈͘̚͝m̶̧̪̺͇̻̹̮̝̰̣͎̐͗̈́̄̈́͛́͗y̶̨̼̰̣͈̱̯͙̩̘̯̪͒̓̇͑̄̈͗͂̾̂̕̚̚͝ ̸̛̹̯͖͔̞̰̗͎̖̰͍͚̠̃̿̀̄͜ņ̸̟͙̺͇̝̳͔̰̿̈́̈́̓͛̉̀̈̋̏̕͝͝á̷̧̨̢̦͈̙͔̗͚͉̞͓͇̱̌̄͒̈́̐̃͌m̷̢̭̭̠͔̮͗͂̄͌͝ͅe̵̲͎̪͉͌̉͑̆͘͜͜…̷̱̟̦̼̼̬̦̝̊͐̓̌̀̏̏͊͑͘͘͝ͅ”

“Į̵̧̠̦͕̣̪̜̟̬̻͓̫̟͚̣̺̖̮͉̘͑͒̓̓̎͑́̈̏̀̈́̑̀͊̂͝ ̵̢̛̪̺͔̥̙̰̣̳͈͉̜̄͛̒͋̇͐̌͊̾̔́̓̇̀̾̕̚ͅs̶̛̛̛̼̰̠͔̺̩̰͓̺͚̻͙̭̱̤͓̘͇̩̥̪̣͎͈͍͑̂̎̿̄̀͑̂͂͗̆̽̄͐̚͜ͅͅĥ̵̛̳̫̫̲̯̪̹͓̋̔͐̈̔̍̈́̐͌̊̒́̌́̍̾̈́̉͌̏̿͘͜͝͝͠å̵̼̫̹̥̙̒͐̓͗̌̒̋̎̍̓́̂̐̋̒̚̕͘͘͝͝ͅl̸̢̧̧̢̖̦̰̱̠͎̭̪̩̫̠̻̯̣̫̘̩̐̐̇̔͛͠l̵̛̪̝̮͈̣̖͕̞͑̀̆̎͊̆͌̔͛̒̚̕͝͠͝ ̴̧̛̛̥̝̱͔͓̦͚͕̝̗̺̲̤̞̏̃̓͊̃̅̅̿̂̈̉̈́̽́̄̽͘͝ǫ̵̡̢̢̛̛̤̼̻̲̳͉̤͕̗̖̼̞̪̥̙̼̘̬̌̅̂̀̋͆͗̈̄̋͗̀̎̄̀̀̊̀̀͗͋̄͜͜͝ͅp̴̧̗̙̺̹͇̩͓̦̹̬͍̺̑͐̌̈́͌͊̎̄̌͂͊̅̂̔͗̈́̌̆̕̚͝͝͝ȩ̴̢̛̝̫̬̞̬̲͉̮͚̖̺̥̻͕̫͛͒͐̉͆͆́͊͊͛̏̓̍͆̚̕͠n̵̡͔̙͕̼̹̬̟̰̩͒͆̀̌͒̈́̐̈́̿̍̈́̏͊͗̿̿̄ ̴̧͈̤̰̺̼͎̩͈̭̝̺̟̮̝̈́͒̚͜ṱ̵̜͔̩̳̬̓̾̋̅̈̎ḩ̶̧̢̪̖̹͔̙̙̪͕͓͙̹̿̇̈́̑́̐̀͌̓̈̈́̽̽̈́̀͐̆̄͛͒̔͑́̆̃̕͝͝ę̷͕̫̰̹͖͈͚̖͖̹̹͍́͛̈́͂̈́ ̸̛̣̠̯̑̐͑̋́̿̀̔̊͆̚͠w̶̧̲̹͚͍̱̗̙̗̞͉͖̯̜̘͔̻̪͖̦̪̟̺̟̦͂̐̅͗͂̃͒̈͛͛͑͒͌͒̋̓͆̇̀̌͊̀̚̕̕͝͠a̶̜̥͇͗̆̃͋̂ỵ̶̡̧̢̛͓̙̬̲̙̠̻̜̻̱̮̲͙̙̯̣͆̅͒͆̊͂̃͑̈́̋̏̒̊̏͒̀̍̈̑̃̽͐̿́͜.”

(…)

The core of the earth isn’t empty. There within perpetual darkness dwells the Deep Ones. A forgotten race that lurks beneath the surface. The last species that endured the test of time.

A confused bunch, a group of 37 were warily studying the Overlord who assembled them. Mismatched eyes stared at the towering figure who was easily twice their height.

Around the Deep Ones, different summons stood guard, blocking their ways of escape.

The undead brought a guest as well. It may even be more frightening. A massive dragon filled the underground chamber, her platinum scales reflecting the dim glow of the sizzling rocks.

“These are the representatives of the only species which endured these past millennia. They will repopulate the planet, and hopefully make this world a paradise.” Ainz said, “Rachel, change your form.”

The humongous dragon nodded and transformed into a woman. A beauty in her late forties. She had a peculiar charm about her. The mismatched, odd eyes blinked, not comprehending what has happened. They scurried in the dark, a new kind of fear seeping into their black hearts.

“The surface is an uncharted territory for their kind, I expect you to lead them.”

The words were weird, misshapen, incomprehensible for the subterranean people. They had no use for words, and it was the first time they heard speech. The mere notion of its existence was a legend, a myth passed down by the ancient ones in their scattered tribes.

“Yes, Lord Ainz.” Came the feminine voice, and they felt an unnatural warmth rise in their cores.

“I do not know when I will return, so I will leave you with some help.” Ainz said and invoked magic. “{Summon undead: Overlord Wiseman} {Enhance Undead: Greater Full Potential}.”

The rigid eyes blinked again. The skeleton did something, and a new one appeared!

An undead in the likeness of Ainz’s former self formed out of nothingness and bowed deep.

Ainz called out,” {Bind Undead}” and pointed at Rachel, “{Transfer Command}.”

Rachel felt a mental bridge establish itself, and a general feeling of the undead’s capabilities became known to her. She hurriedly bowed, “I will not fail you, my Lord!” She said, her face blushing red.

“Don’t mention it, here I have something else for you.” Ainz said as a rift opened in space, and he reached inside for a precious item. “Take good care of it.” He said as he handed her a ring.

The {Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown}. Its battle abilities were questionable; however, its sentimental value was immense. There were only ever 100 created, and they served as the only means of teleportation within the Great Underground Tomb of Nazarick. Should she ever need it, it would serve her well.

He turned around and disappeared in a flash of light. He felt the weight pulling on his soul, should he prolong this any longer he may not have the strength to see this through to the end. For where he went next could very well be his last journey. A journey to the heart of the abyss.

Then a disembodied voice reverberated within his skull,

“Ṇ̶̨̭͙̠͓̤͎͉̳̠̮̈́ë̴͚̜͈̟́́̀̌͐̃̐̚ȩ̸̢̬̖̖̝͊̀̅́̒̒͝d̸̛͎̟̜͙̯̭̪̮̍̋̋̆͆̂͊̓͘ ̵̟͈͕̥̞͂ą̵̡͍̭̪͖̳̋͋́͑̏̊̐̔ ̵͔͕̰̬͈̳̠͎̝̦͔͑̍͂̉͊͜h̶̥͖̭͊͐͗̂͛̄ä̶̡͖̱̫́̍̈́̃̆͝ͅn̸̞̪͖̯̥͚̅̈͂̐̈́̑̒̍́̅͛̕d̵͍̟͇͕̥̹̼͓͒̇̈́̀̄̊͠?̵̦̪̓̅̔̉͗́͂͠”

It would seem he may very well finish this journey in a blink.