Ainz gazed into the abyss, and the abyss gazed back. For long moments he stared into the deep dark, however a strange sensation soon ran down his spine. Something was wrong, very wrong.

He made movements, carved deep into his muscle memory. Hands clasped around a metallic object, and it was pulled free. He blinked. Blurry sight registered; however, he didn’t believe his eyes.

He saw a ran down room, a small, dark, damp chamber. A hole he barely recalled, yet it was familiar. He knew this place. He knew this dismal existence.

He held a hand before his face. Ainz… no, Satoru scrutinized the scrawny arm, all skin, and bones.

He jumped up, with craze in his eyes, almost falling face first onto the ground.

He was here. He was back on Earth!

“NO!” He cried, pulling on the magic he relied on all this time. The magic that always provided a way out, the magic that kept him alive. Yet no mana flared, no runes appeared, and no magic blossomed.

Satoru could not think straight as cold sweat broke on the surface of his skin. The drenching cold water was hungrily sucked in by his garment, while the man desperately looked around.

He had to find a way back.

(…)

Days, weeks passed, yet nothing has happened. The year was the same when he left the Earth, not a day gone by while he was gone. It was maddening. He contacted the guild members, those few he actually knew where to search for. However, they were looking at him with pity in their eyes. As if they were looking at a broken man. They stared at Satoru with sympathy. They must have thought that the closing of the servers, the disappearance of Ainz Ooal Gown was too much for him.

They were looking at a mad man. They offered to provide mental and financial support, as if that would help! They did not understand! They did not believe him. Why would they?!

Satoru sat inside his dark room, leaning against the greasy wall.

A perpetual haze hung over his eyes, as the man stared at a single serving of ramen.

He watched the noodles squirm in the hot water.

Was it all in his head? Was he really going mad?

Was it all… a dream?

(…)

Satoru walked amidst the skyscrapers that stretched above the perpetual mist. The grey skies loomed above, threatening to rain acid that ate through the skin and poisoned the air.

The protection suit he was wearing had patches all over the poor thing. It was an old item.

Soon he would need to buy a new one if he wished to continue leaving his home.

He didn’t though. He had zero desire to return to being a slave. Not like they’d have him back, he didn’t show up for work, not once since he came back. They were certainly not caring enough to check on him, so Satoru didn’t see the need for a letter of resignation.

He walked down the narrow passageway between giant buildings, pondering silently.

He came to crossroads.

Should he end it all?

Or

Should he go on?

The road was perilous, this world—hell. But Satoru has been through worse, and he knew that such a world could not break him, not after all that he had gone through.

If it was true… NO! It was.

He knew that it was!

It was no mere fantasy! Not simple machinations of the mind. He was THERE!

He would rise.

The haze thinned over the brown orbs as Satoru raised his head. Yes, he would prove wrong all those that looked at him with pity in their eyes. He would show THEM! He was NOT crazy!

He removed his helmet, sucking in a deep breath of poisonous air.

He was no longer Suzuki Satoru, a mere salaryman.

He was Ainz Ooal Gown, and THEY do NOT know defeat. He was not done… not yet… not until he had something to return to. He had a family waiting, people and more…

He would die in shame if he brought down such a legend.

The acid ate away at his lungs, and his skin blistered.

If he was wrong this would be the end. But he knew that what he saw was real, he couldn’t be wrong. Not after everything he has gone through, not after everything he had left behind.

Satoru spasmed and coughed and his feet buckled beneath.

He was in agony, as the flesh melted off his bones and his eyes caught fire.

A strange—incomprehensible symbol.

A sign unspeakable.

The Yellow Sign.

It glowed on the chest of Satoru as all flesh and blood became a thing of the past.

The heavens opened, and acid rained down on the world.

All skin, meat and organs were eaten away, devoured. And soon all that remained was a skeleton.

The small frame struggled to stand, and soon the degradation of bones ebbed away.

As the yellow light seeped into the skeletal frame the bones regained their vigor.

They grew at a visible rate, and the bones became pristine white.

The Overlord stood at a staggering height; his previous stature could not compare.

Ainz let out a deep sigh, and the Yellow Sign burst into motes of light.

The Overlord stood at its full height as the gloomy clouds were blown away, a single finger outstretched, and a small light glowing at its tip. He was back. Ainz was really back.

(…)

Within the unlighted chamber beyond time Yog-Sothoth loomed. Indescribable and unconceivable, massive, and all-encompassing. Yet, the strongest among the Outer Gods exhibited signs of strain.

The mass of glowing orbs that continuously merge, regrow, and break apart, with eyes and tendrils in the same perverse act filled the vast chamber beyond time.

An existence that by definition stands above all.

If it were any other time he would. However, something made the mightiest among the Outer Gods strain, and struggle, as if to hold back a tide. A surge that claims all. A flood that erases existence itself. The Deep Dark was awake, and Azathoth gnawed hungrily, setting his sight on the beyond.

Shub-Niggurath fled the realm. Not glancing behind as that amorphous blight of nethermost confusion which bubbles at the center of all infinity—the boundless daemon sultan Azathoth pushed against the hold of Yog-Sothoth, the Key and the Gate.

Should he fall all of existence would perish. All would become nourishment for the Deep Dark.

Yog-Sothoth wouldn’t mind perishing and letting the Lord of All devour creation. After all, once the Deep Dark had its fill HE would go back to sleep, and slumber for another eternity. Giving form to the Key and the Gate once more… however he couldn’t allow that to happen, not this time. Not yet.

Ainz Ooal Gown… he recalled that name. It was worn by a man who rose from nothingness to prominence, a creature that managed to do the impossible.

He surprised the Key and the Gate.

And that act all on its own was enough to move Yog-Sothoth.

He risked the ire of Azathoth. He risked getting erased from all-of-existence once and for all, never to resurface, for the sole reason that he liked this new experience. He wished for Ainz Ooal Gown to live on, and to surprise, and amuse his dull existence once more. One last time would be enough. One last time and it would all be worth it.

Yog-Sothoth struggled and forced shackles on the boundless daemon sultan. Tendrils of uttermost confusion wrapped tightly around the Deep Dark, and Yog-Sothoth launched the nuclear chaos back into oblivion.

Outside of creation the two titans were interlocked, one suppressing the other, while the other struggled in vain to get free. Azathoth was the Lord of All, but Yog-Sothoth was The All-in-One. He was all-of-existence itself, and if he refused the Lord to claim dominion, then the Daemon Sultan had nothing on him in sheer unadulterated physical strength. He was all that ever existed, exists, and will exist. He could not lose to someone who was all alone. He was the Key, and the Gate. Without his permission none may pass, not even that which created and one day shall consume all.

Ainz Ooal Gown, you better make this up to me. Yog-Sothoth echoed silently as the two plummeted beyond the horizon and into uncharted territories, unknown even to the true omniscient All-in-One.