The Hundred Reigns

Chapter 88: ???

Louis had planned this.

Simon’s amazement at his older brother’s cunning was only matched by the pure, agonizing pain rippling through his body and soul. A flame hotter than a volcano’s heart burned within him, searing its way to the very essence of the Overlord Class.

Warmonger IV negated by Mana Sword!

Unyielding Essence IV negated by Mana Sword!

Alchemist’s Poison activated! Poison Ailment transferred by Lovestruck to Euphemia!

Alchemist’s Poison activated! Poison Ailment!

Anti-Heal Ailment! Necrophobia Ailment! Doom Ailment!

Darkbound negated by Mana Sword–

Countless notifications flooded his eyes and mind by the hundreds while his body went into a state of shock. All of his Class’ incredible protections faltered like night recoiling from the rising sunlight. Poison flowed through his veins and rotted them from within, but the damage to his flesh paled compared to the spiritual agony of the Light burning its way through his miasma.

The Mana Sword had done more than strike at Simon Magnos.

It had landed a blow on the Overlord itself.

It had struck at his very Class.

“I didn’t want to admit it… even though I knew the truth deep down…” Lauriane’s voice broke down in a mix of cold rage and despair, tears raining down her cheeks even as she drove the sword further into his chest. “We’re just tools to you! Pawns to be used and discard–”

“Teraburn!”

Belzemine’s spell struck Lauriane in a blast of intense, white-blue fire that propelled her across the room. Lauriane’s Class outfit changed to that of the Alchemist’s, which protected her from the flames, but she still hit the opposite wall.

“Your Majesty!” Belzemine rushed to his side, immediately assessed the wound in his chest, and then tried to pull out the sword to remove its Anti-Heal effect.

She meant well, but it only made it worse.

The Mana Sword’s blade glowed bright the moment she touched the grip. Whereas the sacred power within it once burned like magma, it now became more radiant than the heart of the sun itself. Light poured out of Simon’s armor and consumed him from within. He tried to scream, but only golden beams poured out of his mouth. The walls shook all around them with snake-like hisses coming out from Frightwall’s ancient stones.

And as Simon’s existence unraveled, so did time itself.

Simon’s vision blurred. Belzemine seemed to split in two as she looked over him, two versions of herself overlapping; one a living elf with tears of despair raining down her cheeks, the other a screaming, rotting corpse. Euphemia and the rest of the council broke the nearby doors and rushed in.

“What’s going on here?! The whole castle is shaki–” The Empress’ eyes widened upon seeing Simon impaled on the Mana Sword, her skin gaining a deathly pallor. The other councilors froze in place, with the likes of Shabram covering their mouth in horror or Dassein rushing to his sister’s side. “By the Light…”

They were all wrong, all of them, dividing between two overlapping figures; one half alive and well, the other a shambling corpse. The flood of notifications fizzled out into one as a shadow loomed over Simon.

The future is shrouded in darkness.

The Keeper of the Throne had appeared.

Unlike everyone and everything else, it alone did not blur nor divide. Its single crystal-eye glowed with the dark halo of the comet Abraxas while darkness pulsed from beneath its robes. Its hand reached for Belzemine’s throat and grabbed it with inhuman strength until it lifted her above the ground. She tried to kick the entity back and pulverize it with a spell, but her magic fizzled out as cold hands began to choke the life out of her.

No… Simon wanted to say, but when he raised his hand towards Belzemine, all he could see were fingers of miasma overlapping with dragon claws and a metal glove. What the…

Then he felt a cold dousing the flames inside him, as the Dark fought back with a vengeance. A cataclysmic flood of miasma poured out of his chest, throwing the living backward and rapidly rusting the Mana Sword. Its light faltered as the shadows coiled around it like a snake smothering its prey.

The two overlapping visions of the people present widened, and then split apart with a thousand screams.

There was darkness, and then Simon woke up.

Not in his bed, not in front of the Crimson Throne, but on a cold hard floor in a dark place devoid of light. His wounds had healed, and his lungs breathed miasma for air that gave him life anew.

This is the ??? of your ??? Reigns.

You have earned the Title of Simon the Error.

The Error: Something has gone wrong, and time has no meaning.

What?

Where… where was he? Had he died?

Simon forced himself to his feet, his gloved hands fumbling in the dark. He cast Hellfire to create a sphere of flames in his hand, which was enough to light the darkness and reveal the ruins of the High Council chamber. Lauriane’s broken chair was still there, as was the table and the Mana Sword’s rusted hilt, but neither Belzemine nor anyone else was present.

“Shabram?” he called out, first with a hoarse voice exhaling miasma and then with thoughts. “Duchar?”

No mind touched his own. He didn’t even feel Duchar’s presence, although the old necromancer bore the Brand of Sloth at the beginning of each reign.

Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

“Duchar, can you hear me? Can you hear your Overlord?”

Silence.

What the Abyss was going on?! The man should be safe and sound in Telluria right now. Had he… had he been killed? Or did the Mana Sword dispel all his brands?

“Keeper, I summon you!”

No one came.

Simon grew anxious. Was he still within Frightwall? Or had the Mana Sword disrupted his Perks somehow? Simon carefully moved to the chamber’s stained glass windows and peered through them to find himself staring into a darkness blacker than a thousand starless nights. He couldn’t see anything outside. No Marthrone streetlights, no moon, no nothing.

Only darkness.

This is disturbing. Simon focused on opening his stat screen and saw it appear in front of him. It looked utterly normal except for the new nonsensical title. My magic works, and the Overlord armor too… Do my Perks still function?

“Deathmastery IV.”

His Phantom Steed materialized next to him without issue. The undead horse dutifully stared at him while waiting for orders.

That confused Simon. If his Perks still functioned, why couldn’t he contact Duchar through the Brand of Sloth or summon the Keeper?

Then again… then again, Abyssal Retainer only granted him command over the Keeper of the Throne. It didn’t allow Simon to summon it. It only appeared because it was compelled to obey within Frightwall.

Or something’s going on with the Overlord Class, Simon thought. He had been wearing the outfit since he woke up. Maybe taking it off and putting it back on would cause something to happen, so he tried it out.

You cannot put on your human outfit here.

The wording sent chills down Simon’s spine.

Something had gone terribly wrong. He turned to the Mana Sword’s hilt, the rest of the blade having rusted away, and then had his mount touch it. When the sacred metal failed to react to his phantom steed, Simon dared to pick it up. He felt no pain, no magic, no nothing.

Whatever sacred energies once dwelled in the hilt had long been exhausted.

“How much time has passed?” Simon muttered to himself. The hilt looked so old it might just crumble to dust between his fingers. He decided to stock it in his Inventory for later, when he suddenly noticed an icon remained.

The Commander Crestone.

Wait… could he…

Simon focused and summoned the Commander Noble Crestone within his palm.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Its divine glow illuminated the thick darkness for an instant before its surface began to steam. Its mana fumed out in seconds like a piece of ice melting in the sun, until nothing remained.

This place’s miasma was denser than the Darkwood, so much that it dissolved the Noble Crestone faster than a piece of sugar thrown into a puddle of water, but that was a minor detail compared to everything else.

The really important thing was that the Crestone was still both in his Inventory and accessible, which meant Simon hadn’t died. It would have dropped from his corpse or the icon would have faded away otherwise.

“This is getting stranger and stranger,” Simon muttered, turning to his phantom steed. “Follow me.”

He didn’t really need a mount, but he appreciated the company.

They walked out into the next corridor, with Simon lighting up the torches with Hellfire as they went. The corrupted flames lingered in the ambient miasma, but their glow struggled to repel the gloomy shadows which had overtaken Frightwall. The darkness appeared unwilling to give too much ground even to light born of miasma.

It didn’t take long for Simon to realize this place was utterly devoid of life. His siblings, the maids, the staff… even Father’s public collection of petrified victims were gone without a trace. His calls were drowned out into meaningless echoes. He even resorted to trying to summon imps, but the little critters failed to appear.

The good thing about exploring an empty castle with little to occupy his mind was that Simon had plenty of time to ponder what led to this situation… and how Lauriane could have gotten her hands on the Mana Sword.

He could see two possibilities. The first was that Lauriane was the one who recovered the Mana Sword at the chapel, either delivering it to Louis or killing Father herself. Simon doubted it, since she had looked unsurprised to see her ‘father’ at the meeting and her actions in previous reigns. Either she was the best actress Simon had ever seen, to the point of deceiving her own brother, or she didn’t have a direct hand in the Overlord’s demise.

The other and more likely possibility was that it had all been part of Louis’ plan.

Knowing he would be under surveillance after failing to kill his father, he must have given the real Mana Sword to Lauriane in the hope she would follow through with the assassination. It was a good plan on paper. She was one of the few Magnos children Balzam had somewhat trusted, but even she had her limits. Louis must have figured that learning the truth about their mother’s death would give her the push required.

Maybe Louis had genuinely been angry over Eleanor Magnos’ death, the same way Simon resented Balzam for his mother’s murder, or he may simply have told Lauriane what he thought she needed to hear to reach a breaking point. Whatever the case, his gambit had paid off. Her doubts and fear over Simon’s disappearance had boiled over until she tried to slay him.

She poisoned the Mana Sword, Simon recalled. She must have expected the Mana Sword to suppress Unyielding Essence and thus make the Overlord vulnerable… which means the attack was premeditated.

Whatever the case, they would have a long conversation when they met again in this reign or the next. Simon needed to learn the truth before something similar to… whatever was going on now happened again.

The more time passed, the more this place unsettled Simon. Everything else inside Frightwall looked mostly unchanged. The walls stood, no dust covered the windows, and his room was still untouched.

The world outside the castle… was another matter.

Simon and his mount reached the gatehouse to find the moat was gone, while the bridge linking it up Frightwall to Marthrone had crumbled. Simon threw a fireball to light the way beyond it, only for it to fizzle out before it could reach the imperial city.

“Hellthunder.”

His crimson lightning coursed across the darkness before him, revealing an empty void with no bottom beneath the castle. It seemed to be floating within nothingness.

Is the world… is it gone? Simon gulped before remembering he had a quick way of confirming it. “Lord of the Demon Castle.”

This time, he sensed some feedback. Simon and his steed teleported back into Shabram’s library in her mansion, right next to his miasma crystal. So strange.

“Aegio?” Simon called out. “Anyone?”

Only silence answered him, and while the mansion remained intact, it proved just as devoid of life as Frightwall. Simon explored it until he reached the front doors and opened them to find a gaping emptiness where the gardens should have been.

Everything in between his Dungeons had… disappeared. Drowned in darkness.

Were they… were they in another plane of existence? Or was Simon dead? Was this the Overlord’s afterlife, empty ruins floating in an empty void?

“Where am I?” It then occurred to Simon he might have been asking the wrong question. “When am I?”

It then occurred to him that he might have a way to gain some insight.

“All-Seeing II.”

The most horrible grimoire in the world appeared in Simon’s hands.

His Abyssal Chronicle was worthy of its name. This flesh-bound folio was sealed shut by a black iron lock shaped like a gloomy, dark skull with ruby eyes. Titled ‘The Hundred Reigns,’ it immediately snapped open to reveal dry, yellowed parchment pages. Its contents were written in pale red abyssal runes and divided into chapters titled after his reigns.

“The Short,” Simon read, the page detailing how he had woken up at three in the morning to learn that his father had been murdered, to everyone’s relief.

Since he had little else to do, Simon proceeded to read the Chronicle. It didn’t reveal anything he didn’t know already, because it was written from his point of view. It would be useful enough to ensure he didn’t forget key details, but it wouldn’t provide new information… or so Simon thought until he reached the end of the ‘Error’ reign, which began when he decided to impersonate his father and ended with the whole mess in the High Council room. He flipped the page to find a new chapter.

The UNTITLED.

That one detailed how Simon had woken up in an empty castle and investigated until he found himself reading a book about his own past exploits… he even watched the words detailing his reaction write themselves before his own eyes.

So Simon’s past reign had indeed ended, but he hadn’t died either, according to the Inventory. The world was gone, yet he remained. How to explain this paradox?

A terrible shiver ran down his spine as he put it together.

“Could I be… in-between?” That was the only explanation Simon could come up with for now. "In between two reigns?”

The Oracle was right, the Mana Sword could disrupt the Overlord Class. It had thrown its rebirth cycle awry in some way, ending the previous reign without allowing the next one to properly begin anew.

Time was broken.

I’m trapped. Simon’s fingers trembled in dread as the severity of his situation dawned on him. The reigns have failed.

For the first time since he obtained the Overlord Class, Simon was faced with the most horrifying of outcomes: consequences.

What could he do? Was he trapped between two ticks of the clock, stuck in a dead past while the rest of the universe moved on without him? Was there an exit of some kind?

There had to be an exit! He couldn’t… he couldn’t spend eternity here, with a dead horse and endless darkness for his only company! There had to be a failsafe in the Overlord Class, some way to put time back on track!

Simon tried to anchor himself down and think rationally. This strange realm’s nature had to provide a hint about how reigns worked. Why did physical places still exist in this void, but no life? Where did the sheer quantity of miasma in the air come from? This all looked too real for a dream or illusion…

Simon had taken a peek behind the curtain, and he wasn’t sure what to make of the backstage.

But if nearly all of Frightwall was transported there, then it should be here too, Simon thought. It has to have answers.

Simon used Lord of the Demon Castle to teleport back to Frightwall with his mount, and found the Crimson Throne waiting for him. That cursed seat was untouched like the rest of the castle, its ruby eyes gleaming in the otherworldly darkness as it welcomed its master home.

“What is this place?” Simon inquired. “A dead past? The afterlife?”

The Crimson Throne remained quiet like the chair it was.

Of course. What else did Simon expect?

“Is there a way out?!” Simon’s fist clenched. “Please tell me there’s a way out…”

The Crimson Throne’s eyes glowed brighter, the lights focusing on the seat. It invited Simon to take his place as Overlord.

Simon gulped upon realizing that he had no other option, then walked up the steps to the Crimson Throne. He hoped that sitting on it would either show him a way out of this mess or properly restart the reigns.

Flop.

Simon’s head snapped to the side. Darkness ruled the room except for the meager glow provided by the Crimson Throne’s ruby eyes… yet he had heard a footstep for certain. His phantom steed was studying the shadows, looking for something.

“Is someone there?” Simon called out to the dark. “Show yourself.”

Flop.

There was something there, in the dark!

“Hellfire!”

Simon summoned a sphere of fire in his hand, its light reflecting in a scythe lunging at his throat.

Simon barely had time to launch the Hellfire at his attacker, setting a fool’s motley ablaze and revealing the gaunt outline of a skeletal undead emerging from the shadows. The creature powered through the flames and tackled Simon, who had to grab the scythe’s shaft to stop the blade from reaching him. His Overlord strength, empowered by Lord of the Demon Castle’s buffs, easily let him stop it.

He immediately recognized his attacker’s painted skull-face.

“Gourmand?!”

The demonic undead answered him with a bestial, maddened snarl, his teeth gnashing at him in an attempt to bite his throat. Simon retaliated with a Chaos Wave that threw Gourmand back and dispelled the flames that had consumed his motley outfit.

Simon quickly noticed the change in bulk. Gourmand had grown fat on all the souls Simon fed him during his previous reign, but he was now so thin and starved that it was a miracle he could still stand.

“How did… how did you get here?” Simon inquired, more shocked than anything. “Gourmand, it's me! The Overlord!”

The jester swung his scythe at Simon with a murderous look in his yellow eyes.

The starved beast was after his soul.

“You are no match for me!” Simon snapped as he unleashed Dreadful Aura in an attempt to terrorize the jester, but whatever madness had seized him rendered him immune to fear. Gourmand quickly tried to lunge at him again. “Hellthunder!”

He shocked the Abyss out of Gourmand with lightning. The starved jester lacked the strength to resist, so Simon quickly had his steed pin him to the ground by pressing on his back while he shattered the scythe underfoot.

“Gourmand, it is me, your master!” Simon shouted at the jester. “You’re safe, I’m not going to hurt you!” Gourmand’s response amounted to growls and failed attempts at freeing himself. “Gourmand, how did you survive?! Is there anyone else in the castle?!”

Gourmand gnarled at him hungrily. Simon’s Perks could translate any language, but all he could gather was that the jester deeply wanted to eat his soul at the exclusion of everything else.

He has lost his mind, Simon realized. He has starved to insanity.

Not even Unquestionable Ruler could calm him down. He was simply gone.

Simon eventually settled on chaining him with manacles from the dungeon and leaving him attached to the Crimson Throne for now. The jester’s surprise appearance at least reignited his hopes of finding other survivors within whatever time anomaly had taken place, but those were quickly dashed. Simon did a full tour of Frightwall, searching every nook and cranny, and came up empty. He even tried to reach the castle’s deeper levels, but realized that most of the basement had crumbled into the void. Shabram’s mansion was equally deserted.

Why did Gourmand alone manage to linger in this anomaly? Was it because of his unique nature as an undead demon or whatever else he was? A whim of fate, a stroke of bad luck? Was the jester more than he looked?

Whatever the case, these questions found no answer. Gourmand wasn’t in a lucid-enough state to answer Simon’s queries.

“What am I going to do with you?” Simon asked the mad jester. Leaving him trapped alone in an empty castle at the edge of time sounded like an awful fate, even for this monster. “Could I… could preserve your soul?”

It was worth a shot, and could provide more information on the reigns in the future. Maybe he could feed Gourmand’s current spirit to his past self, should Simon… once he returned everything to normal.

His decision taken, Simon slew Gourmand where he stood by bashing his skull in with his Overlord scepter, then attempted to harvest his soul into a miasma gem… only to fail. Simon stared at the corpse in disbelief, trying to realize what had gone wrong.

He can’t have been of a higher level than me, Simon thought, or else he should have gained one himself from slaying Gourmand. Did his undead nature interfere with the process somehow?

He had killed him for nothing.

This… this might have been a mercy considering his current state. Yes, it was mercy. If this situation couldn’t be salvaged…

This has to be temporary, Simon told himself as he stored Gourmand’s skull in his Inventory in case he could somehow extract information from it in the future. There has to be a way out.

He took a deep breath of miasma, ascended up the Crimson Throne, and then sat on it.

And everything began all over again.