The Reluctant Overlord Chapter 24: The monster under the bed Ch2, an overlord/オーバーロード fanfic

Author note: For those of you who didn't click "Follow" on the story, I actually updated a new chapter on the same day as the previous one. I know some of you guys missed it, because chapter 22 had 500 visitors, but chapter 23 only has 192. This is Chapter 24 folks!

Lesson: If you don't want to miss out, please subscribe!

A few hours ago...somewhere in E-Rantel

Etten was playing with his two friends, Arvel and Katherine. Whether Ettem was his real name or not was unclear. He had no surname. He remembered little of his parents, but he knew they were no longer amongst the living. Ten years old, he was an orphan taken in by the Sorcerous King. At the moment, he was playing at the central clearing in the dormitory. It was filled with wondrous, otherworldly contraptions.

One of them was a large 'n" shaped metallic structure with a pair of chains hanging down and secured to a wooden plank meant to function as a seat. It was called a 'swing".

Another was a strange construct akin to a large weighing scale. A thin wooden plank was balanced on a fulcrum in the center, and what appeared to be makeshift seats were secured on the far edges of the wooden board. Mistress Pestonya called it a 'see-saw'.

Finally, the favorite amongst the children, was a thing called a 'slide'. A mighty structure, it towered over the other contraptions and rose as high as the second floor. A set of stairs led to the top, where one could 'slide' down a long folded metal sheet down to the ground. One could reach frightening speeds when speeding down the slide.

Fortunately, at the base of the slide was enclosed pit of sand, which cushioned the impact.

A common practice was to build something called a 'sandcastle' at the end of the slide while another child would barrel down the slide to crash against it, often with 'roars' and other monster-like sound effects.

Collectively, Mistress Pestonya called these wonderful structures a playground.

There were many other constructs on the playground, such as a ball pit filled with cloth-wrapped fist-sized balls filled with sand, and a rope bridge.

A similar 'playground' was present outside the orphanage, but it was abandoned due to wear and tear. The new one was much better and made of sturdier materials. Sharp edges were blunted and sanded down, and there was a small watering hole where one could wash off the sand and grime after playing.

However, today, Etten and his friends were not frolicking in the playground with the other children. Rather, the anti-social trio were huddled together at the side of the field in the midst of an increasingly heated debate.

The story of the Pale Lady was well-known amongst the children in the orphanage. No one knew of its origins or who started it, but soon every child knew the story by-heart. In fact, the story had even spread outside the borders of the orphanage and spilled into the city of E-Rantel; courtesy of the children's fortnightly excursions into the city. Mistress Pestonya would often bring them out to meet and socialize with the children in the fortress city twice a month.

Most of the time, the children from the city were quiet and timid. After all, there were skeletons and liches walking around the city like some nightmarish fairy tale! It was unsurprising when they started sharing ghost stories and dark stories. One particularly popular story was the tale of the Pale Lady.

There were many versions of the story.

One spoke of a mother who lost her son in the war, and started to obsessively visit the battlefield day after day calling his name. Eventually, her grief transformed her into an ethereal being, and to this day, she appears after each battle and wanders the fields calling his name. Katse Plains was her new home.

Another spoke of a ghostly woman who wanders the northern marshes, forever seeking her lost daughter. They say she steals children who wander astray, others that her sobbing wail strikes dead all those who hear it. Eventually, she was imprisoned in a frozen crypt along with her sword, the Pale Blade.

There was the tale of the Pale Lady being a menacing ghoul who appeared when a person walked up a flight of stairs backwards while holding a candle and hand mirror, in a darkened house and called her name three times.

Unsurprisingly, Mistress Pestonya had to deal with lot of injuries as people fell backwards while going up the stairs in the orphanage.

Finally, there was a version where the Pale Lady was a young lady who was cursed and horribly disfigured, but with a heart of gold, and whom slowly descended into madness and was ever seeking her children.

There were also variants where the Pale Lady was actually not a lady at all, but a man. He was called the Pale Lady because of how people would turn pale when they saw what was underneath his skirt.

However, Etten was convinced the true Pale Lady was real.

"She doesn't exist, Etten!"

"It's just a story!"

"No, it's not!"

"I am telling you. She is REAL!"

"Come on, that's impossible! You need to grow up and stop believing in fairy tales!"

Etten's face scrunched up at the last statement. It was particularly offensive.

"You're the same age as me!"

"Look. I'm telling you. It's just a made-up story. And why would you think she's here, of all places?!"

Arvel shuffled his feet and fidgeted nervously.

"Well-Brie said she heard her last week. It kept her up all night!"

Katherine replied angrily, "Not that stupid story again! Brie is just 6 years old. She was having a nightmare!"

"-Wooo-…Wooo… You took..my baby..!" Etten whispered in the ghoulish voice his ten-year-old voice could muster.

"Eew! You're creeping me out! Stop it!"

"But wait..whats..this..under my skirt.. it's my d!"

"Ouch! Katherine! Stop! Ouch!—Fine, fine!"

The trio calmed down after several minutes of rough-housing. Etten was still breathing heavily when he continued;

"I'm telling you, she's real! I will prove it!".

"How?!"

"She's downstairs. In that locked room. I just know it!"

"Are you stupid? Why would she be there? That's just a boiler to heat the floors. It's really dangerous and hot inside, and that's why it is locked!"

All the kids knew of the large locked door in the basement.

Constructed with heavy mahogany and oak with steel hinges, it was an imposing structure that would take at least 3 adult men to haul open. Furthermore, it was secured by a very complex looking lock. The only key was in the possession of the owner of the orphanage, Mistress Pestonya.

"You're going to get in trouble again! Didn't she tell you not to mess with that door!"

"Etten is a bad boy-" Arvel chipped in.

"I'm telling the both of you! The door is locked because she's down there! I just know it!"

"Can you even hear what you're saying? That's just complete nonsense! It makes no sense. You're telling me that the Pale Lady is living in our basement? OUR basement?".

Katherine laughed uncontrollably while Etten blushed a deep shade of red which complemented his maroon cotton tunic.

…

Fate was kind to him that day as Mistress Pestonya interrupted the trio.

"Ahem-"

"Children-may I introduce, Sir Climb. He's a knight in service of the Princess of the Re-Estize Kingdom, and he would like to take a tour of our lovely house."

Katherine, Arvel, and Etten stood still; stunned. A visitor?!

Immediately, hushed whispers spread like wildfire, and a commotion began.

A visitor?!

Was someone about to be adopted?

Maybe...Was it a parent coming to pick up their long-lost child?

Would their friends be taken away?

Anxiety and uncertainly spread among the children as they studied this imposing white knight.

His armor was caparisoned in silver and gold, but had the color of fresh-fallen snow. It was not needlessly ornate, but embodied a functional beauty. The sigil of the Re-Estize Kingdom was emblazoned on the chest plate, and a broadsword hung on its side. The wearer had straight blond hair cut short in a militaristic crew-cut, and clear blue eyes.

Climb felt it would be offensive to wear his full armor during this visit, so he left his shield, helm, and gauntlets at the inn. After all, he was here strictly for reconnaissance. While he could not be one hundred percent sure of his safety, he assumed that, as a guest and participant in the Tournament of the Sorcerous King, the undead lich's minions would not dare openly attack him without just cause.

Furthermore, he was only here for personal reasons.

As an orphan rescued by Princess Renner, he felt a deep connection to other fellow orphans, and he knew that, with the demise of over one hundred thousand men, there would be many parent-less children.

Of course, he was not here without permission. Tasked with surveying the conditions of the orphanages in the city of E-Rantel by his beloved Princess, he was given the orders to adopt up to five children should he feel they were mistreated. He would have adopted more, but finances were tight, and they wanted to avoid an international incident. If the situation was dire enough, they would attempt a full-scale rescue mission, but only after the conclusion of the tournament.

There were already enough orphans in the Re-Estize Kingdom, and despite attempts by the Princess to push for social reforms, none of them materialized to provide tangible benefits to the parent-less children in the Kingdom.

Still—his mistress, Princess Renner, had secured enough funding for him to rescue and take in five other children should he find them suffering under the undead hands of the Sorcerer King.

Climb gave a silent prayer to his savior. She delivered him from certain death, and gifted him a fulfilling second life while he was dying on the streets. Since then, he had pledged his life and soul to her.

"Good morning, Children. My name is Climb. I am a knight of the Royal Princess Renner. It is nice to meet all of you."

Climb gave a curt bow.

Mistress Pestonya proceeded to introduce the children.

"This is Katherine."

A small girl about ten years old curtsied.

"And this is Arvel and Ettenmoor."

The two boys stared with their mouths agape before a quick nudge from Katherine startled them. They proceeded to bow before the white knight as well.

Mistress Pestonya continued: "We have about one hundred and twelve children in this building. There are over forty rooms in the orphanage, spread over two stories. The kitchen and dining hall is just down this corridor, and there is a basement that functions as a storage room. The furnace downstairs that heats the floors and warms the bath waters. The nursery is downstairs as well."

"Hm—only one hundred and twelve children?"

Out of the 100,000 men and women who perished in the battle of Katse Plains, only 8,000 were from the fortress city of E-Rantel. The rest of the soldiers were conscripted from the other cities and provinces of the Re-Estize Kingdom. Still—Climb had expected more than just one hundred and twelve orphans.

"Well—there are certainly more, but the other children are currently housed in the city; under the care of the widows from the war."

War…

Climb snorted involuntarily.

A massacre was a more apt description of the event. Even now, he could hear the terrifying wails of the Lost Young in his dreams.

Ignoring him, Pestonya continued.

"The Sorcerer King re-purposed over twenty houses in the city as accommodations for the widows and orphans from the war. We let the children visit the other orphanages twice a month on a rotating basis while we conduct inspections to make sure everything meets the standards set by the Sorcerer King."

"Lord Ainz feels that the children are the key to the future. After all, who knows when a future 'Momon the Dark Hero' would rise from his citizens."

"As King, his Majesty would like to rule peacefully and re-build the city and adventurer's guild; turning them into 'true' adventurers. For this to work, he has to make sure the needs of his charges are taken care of."

With a sly smile, she said:

"—they look well, don't they? I trust everything so far has been to your satisfaction, Sir Climb?"

Pestonya gestured towards the children.

Climb flushed a bright red.

It was true. They looked well-fed and clothed. It was a far-cry from the stereotypical starving orphans found in the main capital. Shrunken, with a wasted appearance and prominent rib cages, the orphans in the city would sit listlessly until they either died, or were adopted to work in a textile factory or sweatshop. Their physique excluded them from mining work and the military draft.

"-Well…"

"Come now, let us continue with the tour. Let me show you one of the rooms."

Pestonya swept forward, with the white knight in tow.

…

Etten chuckled as he stared at the back of this imposing foreign knight.

Fortune smiled upon him, and he turned to his friends.

"Yes—today would be the day. I will prove to you that the Pale Lady is real!"

…

The dog-eared maid brought him upstairs and into one of the rooms.

At a quick glance, Climb spied several wooden beds with straw mattresses enclosed in a thick cotton cover. Next to each bed was a small table with a wooden chair and a lantern lit by a magical glowing crystal.

At the feet of each bed was a modest looking chest; likely containing the belongings of their respective inhabitant.

Pestonya brought him inside another room.

It was nearly identical except the furnishings were smaller in scale. There was also a thick waxy green, leaf-like sheet on top of each bed. It was massive, and covered the entire bed.

"—Waterproof sheets for the little ones who have yet to outgrow 'accidents' at night." Pestonya commented.

"It's a chore to clean these straw mattresses."

"Candles are only permitted in the rooms of the older children. Most of the rooms are lit by enchanted lanterns."

Climb carefully inspected the rooms. They looked 'lived in'. There were scribbles and marks of innocent vandalism on the wooden desks, and scratch marks where the wooden chairs left a stain on the stone flooring. The beds were made, but showed signs of being slept in. Some trunks were open, while others were locked tightly.

There were two windows on each room, but they faced inwards towards the central clearing. This meant that no one could look inside from outside the building, and vice versa.

"The kitchen and dining hall is this way-"

Pestonya went down the end of the corridor and walked downstairs.

As Climb followed her, he sensed the gaze of the children drilling into him. However, whenever he tried to meet their eyes, they hastily looked away. Some of them even started tailing him from behind, darting behind the doors and hiding inside the rooms whenever Climb turned around.

Did they think he would not notice?

Climb smiled as he went downstairs and into the dining hall.

It was a separate wing from the rest of the building, and consisted of a several large dining tables with many small chairs. There was a large cart where Climb assumed the dirty dishes were deposited in after meals. Oddly enough, there were rows and rows of bookcases lining the hall.

"We use this hall for teaching and studying during off-hours". Pestonya quipped.

There were several doors at the end of the hall that were locked.

"I'm sorry, but we lock the doors to the kitchen. We don't want the children to hurt themselves with the knives, or burn themselves while playing with the oven."

Climb nodded approvingly.

"Let's go back to the main building, and head down to the basement."

…

In contrast to the brightly lit main floor, the basement was dark and dreary. Unexpectedly, the air was warm and dry rather than moldy and humid. There was a work-bench with multiple broken bed-frames propped up against the wall, along with desks that were missing legs or chairs that sat uneven on the ground.

There was a treasure trove of books and writing utensils on the far side of the wall, while sacks of grain, potatoes, seeds, and bundles of straw were stored in the corner.

At the far left, there was an imposing mahogany door that looked quite out of place.

Climb felt his gaze linger on the ominous door.

"Ah- you noticed. That's where the furnace and boiler is kept. We decided to keep it locked because it is not a place for the children to play in. The little ones like to wander—you see.".

Pestonya pointed to another door next to it.

"That's where the nursery is, but the young ones are sleeping now, so I would prefer not to wake them."

"— and that concludes our tour. Now let's go upstairs to meet the children. I'm sure you have noticed them trailing after you for a while now."

As soon as he reached the top of the stairs leading out of the basement, he was greeted by the sight of a beaming young boy in a maroon-red shirt. The boy had crystal clear blue eyes and a wide grin. He seemed to be breathing heavily as he looked up at the white knight.

"Hi! My name is Etten. Nice to meet you!"

…

Climb waited for further introductions. An uneasy silence followed.

"—Just Etten?"

…

"Huh?"

Pestonya picked up on the hint, and explained.

"Most of the children here don't have surnames. Many of them have forgotten their family names, and to ensure everyone fits in, we encouraged everyone to take on new names."

Climb was not wholly surprised.

Himself not having a family name, he understood why many orphans lacked a surname; either to hide the shame of their lineage in the case of nobles having bastard sons and daughters, or discarded purposefully to spite the parents that abandoned them.

Still—these children should have been orphaned due to the war, and should not have forgotten their family names.

Behind the strange boy in the red shirt, a group of children of varying sizes and ages began forming. They talked among-st each other in hushed whispers, all the while sneaking covert glances at the white knight.

Suddenly, a boy grabbed Climb's hand, and dragged him towards the crowd.

"Come! Come meet the rest!"

Defeated, Climb reluctantly allowed himself to be guided by the young child.

Behind him, the dog-eared maid grinned.

"I will leave you to play with the children, Sir Climb. If you would excuse me—"

She then disappeared into the main building.

…

"Are you a real knight?"

"Are you strong?"

"Why did you come here, Sir Knight? Are you here to adopt one of us?"

"…."

"Did you go into the basement? What's down there? Mistress Pestonya said we aren't allowed downstairs"

"Can you tell us about the capital?"

"What's going on in the city. There are a lot of new people lately!"

"Did you fight in the tournament? Can you tell us more about it?"

Climb was bombarded with questions, and struggled to answer them all. Inside, he felt intense reprieve. He let out a loud relieved sigh. It seems the orphans were well-taken care of, after all. He had already forgotten the purpose of his visit; to rescue the children.

The white knight spent over two hours mingling and chatting with the children. Soon, even the shy kids joined in while Climb told stories of his exploits and about life in the Kingdom and the current events in E-Rantel. They were shocked to hear that Climb was one of the contestants in the tournament.

However, most of his stories centered around his idol, Princess Renner. Climb felt he could go on for hours and hours with regaling tales of his beloved.

When the crowd heard that Climb was not about to adopt them, they breathed a collective sigh.

Whether it was one of disappointment or relief, he was not sure.

Eventually, the children got bored, and began to disperse one by one.

Short attention spans, huh?

Finally, only the strange boy with the maroon-red shirt remained. Throughout the two hours, the young man remained silent and soaked up every word Climb had to say. His piercing, analytical stare was uncomfortable.

It seemed to Climb that the young boy was judging him, although the terms and conditions eluded him.

The staring contest ended when the boy spoke up.

"-Have you heard of the Pale Lady?"

…

'Who?"

"The Pale Lady! You don't know her?".

Climb racked his brain at the term. There was a tale of a wispmother called the Pale Lady who slumbered deep in Frostmere Crypt, but that was merely a creature of legend in the frozen tundra of the North.

"I'm sorry, Etten. I am not familiar with the term."

"Oh-" The young boy was disappointed.

…

"HEY, DO YOU WANT TO PLAY HIDE-AND-SEEK?!"

Climb's eyes burned in agony as the young boy tossed a fistful of sand in his eyes. Struggling to clear the grit and tears, he spied a maroon shadow darting into the basement.

"Ugh!"

"Wait!"

Climb struggled to follow while fiercely blinking the sand out of his eyes, but his heavy armor reduced his sprint to a clumsy stumble.

That little brat is fast!

Cautiously walking down the stairs to the basement, Climb called out for Etten.

"HEY!"

"Hey Kid!"

"It's dangerous to be in here!"

"I'm not playing anymore!"

"Hey Kid!"

The basement was dark and lit only by the scant magical lanterns hanging off the walls. With the boxes, broken bedposts, mismatched desks and chairs, along with stacks of books and bookshelves, it was a treasure trove of hiding spots. The shadows also encircled over half the room, making it very difficult to find a small child if they chose to conceal themselves.

Climb debated asking for assistance from Pestonya, then decided against it.

It would look bad on him.

A stain on his pride.

He started rummaging through the desks; taking care to peer underneath each one.

Every minute or so, he would call out the young boy's name.

Then, Climb searched the piles of books and under the bookshelves, moving in a systemic approach in a clockwise pattern. Considering the child ran into the basement without a hint of hesitation, he must have a pre-planned hiding spot that he was extremely proud of.

"Etten!"

"Come out!

"It's dangerous to be in here!"

Finally, Climb came upon the only two doors in the basement.

He first tried opening the door to the nursery, but it was locked shut.

Then he approached the large, imposing door that lead to the furnace room. As he walked towards it...

"Cruncchh!."

Climb felt something snap underneath his steel boots.

Curious, he picked it up and examined it under the poor lighting.

It was an odd device made of wood and iron. There was a small cylindrical stick with metal wire bent around it at odd angles. He could see where the wood was shaved to reveal grooves and notches. Because he had stepped on it, the bizarre contraption was snapped in two.

Suddenly, Climb panicked.

A key?!

A makeshift key?!

Impossible?!

But-

Climb rested his palm on the door and gave a slight push.

-and to his horror, the door gave way.

It was unlocked!

Terrifying scenes flooded his head as he felt his heart beat faster and faster. Beads of sweat fell from his brow. His throat felt tight, and it became difficult to breath. There was a knot forming in his stomach.

Without thinking, he pushed harder on the door, willing it open.

It was heavier than he thought.

Using both hands, he shoved with all his might, and opened the door about a third of the way through.

Climb felt warm air blow across his face as a red-orange light spilled from the gap.

Soon...he realized his folly.

...

There's no way the boy could have gone through this door!

Even with his prodigious strength, Climb had only managed to push open the door with about a two feet gap.

That means!

Climb's worst fear came through when a maroon-tinged blur materialized from the shadows and sprinted through the gap.

"Thank you!"

Climb felt his face flush in anger and embarrassment.

He had been played-

-by a ten year old child.

…

...

With a final shove, Climb managed to open the door enough to slide his bulky armor inside. He was confronted with a red inferno.

There was a large iron furnace with massive vents that reached to the ceiling and across the main floor, heating the floor above it. It was likely powered by magic, as there were no coals lying around nor personnel feeding the fire. The flickering red flames sent dancing shadows across the room.

At the end of the room was another set of double doors, and Climb found the object of his annoyance.

…

...

Etten clawed at the door in frustration.

This isn't supposed to be here!

He struggled to open the door, but despite using his full strength, his child-like physique only forced the door about two centimeters open, revealing only darkness behind the door.

Clank!

Etten could feel the palpitations of his throbbing heart as the sound of Climb's heavy metal boots got louder and louder.

Clank!

Sweat oozed out of every pore as he strained himself against the heavy door.

Clank!

...

Silence.

...

Etten knew the absence of footsteps could only mean one thing.

…..

Pain ran across his arse as he felt himself lifted up by the scruff of his pants. He felt the fabric dig deep into his skin.

Ouch! Oww!- Let go of me!

He squirmed helplessly as he was hoisted into the air.

Slowly, he rotated and came face to face with his caretaker.

Clad in a white armor decorated with silver and gold, the man sported straight blond hair cut short in a military crew-cut. He was panting and sweating from exhaustion. His clear blue eyes held a furious light as their eyes met.

"You-are-in-big-trouble-young-man-"

Etten closed his eyes; afraid of a slap that would follow.

After realizing that no strike was incoming, the young boy relaxed.

"Explain yourself"—Climb said flatly.

"I was looking for the Pale Lady!"

…

An uncomfortable silence followed as Climb facepalmed.

"She's inside! I'm telling you!"

Climb started to walk back to the entrance with the little boy in tow.

"Look! Even if you take me back, I'm just going to come down here again."

"Tell you what! If you let me peek inside, I promise to never come down here again!"

Climb paused and deliberated the situation.

"—Fine".

Etten couldn't believe his luck.

Letting the boy down, Climb walked back towards the double doors and gave it a slight push.

He was greeted with the smell of death.

...

It was a nauseating scent; carrying the pronounced tones of decomposition and human waste and excrement. It assaulted his nostrils and caused him to scrunch up his face in disgust.

As the light shined from the furnace room into the dark hallway beyond the doors, Climb was presented with a horrifying sight.

Bodies.

A pile of bodies.

A pile of small dead babies, haphazardly thrown in the corner like discarded waste.

And the origin of the rotting stench became clear.

"—the Basement".

"Why is it—ALWAYS—the basement"

Climb reached for his sword and drew it from his scabbard. The silver sword glistened and flickered in the light of the red flames emanating from the furnace behind him.

As a city knight, he had participated in several raids on stores and houses used as fronts for seedier business practices. In every instance, there would be a brothel underneath an unassuming bar, or a smugglers den underneath a storage facility. There would be slave markets underneath orphanages, or private torture rooms underneath nobleman houses.

"-always—in the BASEMENT."

From the time he entered the orphanage, Climb had been suspicious.

The children were healthy, well-fed, and unharmed.

It was too good to be true.

A secret slaughterhouse...where humans were sacrificed like sheep.

Climb knew that the blood of innocent children were often used in sacrificial rituals for summoning the creatures of darkness. It was the presumed reason the demon Jaldabaoth kidnapped those children from the capital. The younger, the better. The bones and skulls were powerful artifacts in summoning the dead and bargaining with devils. It seems the undead were not too different from demons, after all.

His blood boiled.

Curse that Sorcerer King!

Climb's worst fear was realized. By taking over the fortress city of E-Rantel, the undead Lich had secured himself a reliable supply of human sacrifices for his heinous magic.

He pushed open the door all the way, and strolled inside, completely forgetting the young boy next to him.

Climb pulled out a small crystal from his pocket and whispered words of power. The amulet began to shine with a faint white glow, illuminating a path before him. As he strode forward, he detected a soft, high pitched cry. Barely audible, it seemed to originate from the pitch darkness ahead.

Climb strained to hear the noise. Soon, it became more pronounced, and he recognized it for what it was. It was the desperate cry of an infant.

There's still one alive down there!

Panicking, Climb charged forward; sword in hand.

…

...

Deep in the recesses of the dark, foreboding hall, a malevolent figure stirred. Grotesque. Ugly. Festering. Disfigured. The creature went to soothe one of her charges when she sense the intruders. They smelled like humans. One of them was armed with a weapon. She could detect the pheromones in the air. It was hostile. They meant her harm.

Slowly, she made her way towards the trespassers.

With each stride, she felt her paranoia grow.

Were they here to kill her?

Were they here to kill her children?

Her children?

Her babies?

Wait—where are her babies?

What happened to them?

They were just here.

Did the intruders take them?

It's wrong.

No, it's wrong.

Why would they take her children?

Her babies.

Why?

The creature began speeding up as her madness grew.

Where are they?

It's wrong

Where are her children?

She started rambling on and on and eventually broke into a full sprint.

Finally, she came face to face with the intruders, and deep inside, they knew.

They had stumbled upon an avatar of madness and decay.

And they despaired.

…

Frightening. Terrifying. Grotesque. Deformed. Perverted. Monstrous. Unnatural.

None of those words could accurately convey the true hideousness of the creature that appeared before Climb and Etten.

His knuckles turned white and blood drained from his face as it contorted in abject horror.

A terror as overwhelming as anything Climb had ever felt filled him suddenly. A tightness formed in his chest, sending jolts of pain throughout his body. His chest was burning as if on fire. He was suffocating-because he was too terrified to even breath.

Panic seized him. He would die a pitiful death. He would die from being utterly paralyzed with fear.

A warm feeling flowed down his leg; bringing him to his senses.

The sudden heat was soothing, and calmed his hysteria.

Yes—Climb had wet himself, and it saved his life.

"Etten!"

"Etten! Stand behind me!"

Climb glanced to his side, and saw that the boy was similarly frozen in fear.

The creature was rapidly gaining momentum, and would be upon them in seconds. The monstrosity had pale skin that glistened under the faint light emanating from Climb's crystal. As she drew closer, Climb could finally discern her features; and it tormented his dreams even year afterwards.

Ink-like, black hair hung messily across her shoulders.

Skin as pale as white ash; drained of all blood.

A dark dress as black as night.

Blood stained fingers.

Teeth and eyes, but no lips or eye lids.

And most terrifying of all; an unending cry of nonsensical words.

"It's wrong, it's wrong, it's wrong, it's wrong...my baby, my baby, my baby-! You, you, you, you, took, took, took, took, my baby, my baby, my baby, my baby-!"

Climb spied a glint of metal as it reflected the white light radiating from his amulet.

No!

With super-human reflexes, Climb rushed towards Etten and knocked him away as hard as he could. The impact from the collision undid the paralysis and startled the young boy in the maroon shirt.

Etten flew several meters and crashed into a pile of corpses at the side.

The dreadful creature was upon them.

You, you, you, you, took, took, took, took, my baby, my baby, my baby, my baby-! Give it back! Back! Back! Back!"

Strengthening his resolve, Climb chanted; [Ability Boost] [Evasion] [Focus Fighting Power] [Strengthen Perception]

And finally….

[Limit Breaker]

His trump card.

A Martial Art unique to Climb, it's effect was to remove all limits imposed on the body by the brain. Therefore, all his abilities would then increase by another level, including his physical ones. The only downside to this effect was that if he used it for an extended period, it would cause physical fatigue and muscle tearing.

The skill was a gift he learnt by braving the killing intent of Sebas Tian

Five martial arts at the same time.

Climb was also wearing an armor made of an amalgam of mithril and orichalcum; a gift from his beloved Princess. Her lovely visage was the last thing on his mind as he charged forward.

[High Vertical Strike]

It was a powerful strike taught to him by Gagaran back in the inn's backyard in the Re-Estize capital, before the invasion from Jaldabaoth. The move was especially effective on opponents who did not seem like they would evade.

Climb gained a foothold, twisted, and swung with all his might at the charging monster.

There was a booming sound of wind and the sound barrier breaking apart. The very air was cut in a vertical line, cleaving everything in two.

For a moment, the room was silent.

All of a sudden, Climb roared in pain. His shoulder throbbed with agony, and he reflexively dropped his sword. He felt a warm, sticky liquid flow down his arm.

He bent over in pain; his useless arm hanging limply at his side.

The reprieve was short-lasting, however.

His body convulsed in pure agony as the monster's unnatural blade pierced his mithril and orihalcum armor. One of the sturdier metals known in the world; cut through like paper.

…

Etten stared in complete horror at the situation.

What have I done?

Is this the Pale Lady?

How could this be happening?

Is this all my fault?

The young boy gawked at the surreal scene.

...

With the creature standing over the fallen knight, her features became clearer under the bloodstained light crystal hanging off Climb's neck.

Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab.

...

The monster was viciously stabbing the white knight…with a pair of scissors.

She struck with such ferocity that blood spurted out like a fountain, and bits and pieces flew and handed on Etten's face. Like a frustrated child using a knife to open a tin can, Climb's white armor was full of holes, and soon his body was entirely unrecognizable; his torso simply hamburger meat.

...

Throughout this vicious, senseless assault, the creature continuously cried out for her baby.

Etten could smell the nauseatingly sweet and pungent odor of rust.

The young boy knew he was next.

Involuntarily backing away, he felt something hard press against his hand. It was smooth and cold, and somehow…felt hollow.

He tapped the pile of bodies he was sitting on to confirm.

Indeed, it felt...odd.

Were they truly the skulls and bones of the unfortunate children who fell prey to that dreadful monstrosity?

Despite the gruesome sight unfolding before him, the young boy picked up one of the corpses and inspected it.

He struggled to comprehend what he was seeing.

A doll?!

What is a doll doing here?!

What…is going on?!

And a revelation appeared before him. He finally remembered.

….

The most popular version of the tale of the Pale Lady went like this:

Once upon a time, back in the time immemorial, there lived powerful gods. To amuse themselves, the gods would compete and argue against each other in contests of strength, speed, and ideology. Their words shook mountains, and split the seas. The earth trembled in their battles, and the heavens split apart when they worked together against a common enemy.

Each god had a unique appearance and personality; most of them grotesque and terrifying to behold if viewed with mortal eyes. One particular god was humanoid with a head resembling that of a distorted octopus, covered with crooked text tattoos. He has two pupil-less, blue-white murky eyes and his skin color is deathly pale like a corpse. He wore a black cloak decorated with silver accessories and several loosely-fitted belts.

One day, the gods had a debate.

Could you judge a book by its cover?

Is personality or appearance more important?

Is what's on the inside that counts, or what is outside?

And this god decided to test it out, and created a child.

She was a beautiful young lady, and had pale, fair skin and gorgeous black hair. She had luscious blue eyes and pearly white teeth. Her figure was slim, and her body was toned.

But where there were eyes, there was no eyelids.

And where they were ivory white teeth, there was no lips.

And where there was a flawless complexion, there was no skin on her face.

In a cruel twist, the god gave his child a heart of gold. She was compassionate. She loved the innocent. She was kind. She cared for humans, beasts, elves, and all the lower-tier races. She had a particularly soft spot for children.

The other gods then each made a child of their own, and gave them beauty incomparable, but filled their hearts with pride and ingrained a sense of superiority over the mortal-kin. Their children were alluring and dazzling beyond comparison, and brimmed with utter indifference towards those they considered inferior.

However, when the other gods beheld the young lady, they were horrified and tried to attack her on sight.

Eventually, they confined her to an underground basement where she spent many long years alone in the pitch-black darkness. Eventually, she took a name that meant "Blackness" in the old tongue. Her fair skin became paler and paler.

It was said that her madness began then.

In her abject loneliness, she started to make baby dolls. Eventually, her mental health deteriorated, and she started talking to these artificial children as if they were hers. Thus, the young lady began to have seizure-like episodes where she would break down and fly into madness. The only way to calm her down was to present her with a doll.

Then one day, the Pale Lady was freed.

It was said that she had unfathomable power and strength, and would often appear and defend innocent children and infants against those who meant them harm. But they cast her away, and hurled insults and stones. They could not accept her terrifying form.

With her madness ever growing, she hid herself away.

Yet, it was rumored even after all this time, she was determined to prove that her master was right—that you cannot judge a book by its cover, and that inner kindness was more important than external appearances.

—and that's how the story went.

It was a morally complex story, and spawned endless debates amongst the children. Who was right? Was there such a thing as a nice monster? –and so forth.

To them, it seemed that adults wrote this story to teach them a lesson on morality and to challenge common dogmas; akin to popular fables such as 'The boy who cried Goblins!' and the 'Seven dwarfs".

But it was real.

And truly, she was terrifying…but…

Etten grabbed the doll, and ran to the creature.

Trembling, he stretched out his hands and handed her the doll.

"H-ereee…Here…is iit…is..y-your…your baby!"

And Nigredo finally calmed down and realized in horror what she had done.

Let me know what you guys think about the last few chapters! Remember, more reviews and advice = better stories

The next chapter is coming..make sure to follow so you don't miss it!

This is my makeshift volume 10.5 of the overlord series =)