Rise of the Disguised Overlord | Ch. 1

A/N: In case you missed it, here's a link to the Prologue. 

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Chapter One: The Great Divine Master Overlord of the Valley of Idra

The Overlord’s mansion lay in Reláire, the capital of the valley. The reason for its positioning was defensive–the forests that sat just outside the city were coarse and thick with high-rank monsters. This created a very peculiar dynamic, where Reláire’s townspeople were both too smart and too cowardly to leave, and its enemies felt the same about entering.

But Dimitri was desperate.

Blood had been rushing through his ears for hours, his heart barely able to settle down to a normal rhythm. No matter how much he tried to force them away, the faces of the Vortigerns appeared behind his eyes whenever he blinked, as if they’d seen what he’d done and chosen to curse him interminably.

He laid his head against the prickly trunk of the tree behind him, and groaned.

In a way, that’s exactly what they did.

He had made the decision in a foolish hurry, taking the second son’s mask and running for the foothills. His plan had been simple and stupid: to avoid being accused, he’d masquerade as the boy. It was theoretically possible–no one knew what the younger Vortigern truly looked or sounded like, and Dimitri had done the work to drag his body towards the dead commoners. If one were to look at the crime scene in the aftermath, they’d likely assume his body belonged to visiting townspeople.

The only problem–Dimitri was no actor. He was terrified that the moment he went back out there to face the music, they’d expose him as a fake. Accuse him and try him for the murder regardless. And he’d have no means of fighting back against the verdict; his body was weak and untrained, his physique small and feeble. His grasp of magic only went so far as spells involving dishwashing and hanging wet clothes.

He took a deep breath in, exhaled out. Having nothing better to do, he studied the mask.

It was made of some sort of dense metal, the base painted black with thin yellow and red lines on the cheekbones and around the mouth. It tapered off into a sharp edge, and left only two slits for the eyes. Dimitri had seen the young master wear it a few times, and it was rather intimidating.

I might as well try it on.

With reluctance, he slipped the bands around his ears.

The notifications immediately assaulted him.

[Artifact Equipped: Runic Mask of Obscuring Identity]

[Class Unlocked: Overlord]

[New Title Claimed: Great Divine Master Overlord of the Valley of Idra]

“Wait – what?”

The action had been as simple as turning on a light switch, but the effects were overwhelming. Hundreds and hundreds of messages poured over his System display: land agreements, historical dynasty documents, stat boosts, friendship pacts with foreign nations, skills and spells.

He was used to operating his System to make minor choices about his previous class, [Butler], mainly skill tree options every few months, or inventory slots to store cleaning supplies, but he’d never seen this many System panels in his entire life. He hadn’t even known such extensive options existed – the Diplomacy panel, a History tab, whatever Runes of Power were.

It was as if they had been locked behind an invisible, aristocratic wall.

Taking a deep breath in, he decided to start somewhere he was familiar with, the Skills tab. Three new skills were flashing in bright yellow in front of his eyes, the text blinking repeatedly until he focused on them.

New Skill! – Aura of Domination (A)

New Skill! – Enigmatic Veil (A)

New Skill! – Soulreaper’s Rush (A)

Dimitri’s heart nearly stopped in his chest.

These are Grade A?!

Grade A was the third highest level a skill could be, right before S and SS+. His highest skill before putting on the mask had been Grade E, and it was his Dishwashing Proficiency. Even that upgrade from F to E had felt ginormous at the time, allowing him to scrub at four times the speed.

Just as he was about to investigate what each skill could do, he heard a rustling behind him. He had forgotten just where he was—the Forest of Daemon–the most feared and avoided woodlands in the entire continent. He had only planned on staying there for a moment to rest and recoup, but he had accidentally waited until sundown.

He jumped to his feet, looking around. He heard the rustling again, closer now. The sound was a pitter-pattering thing, like small feet rushing across the grass. But he knew better than to let down his guard even around the smallest animals in Daemon. They were monsters, after all, not just meager farm breeds.

With his eyes affixed to the brush, he began to walk backwards towards the path he came from. He took slow and methodical steps, pausing every time he heard a noise. His heartbeat racketed in his ears, making it hard to hear what direction the footsteps were heading.

“Stay back,” he mumbled into the air. “I don’t want any trouble.”

Four paws came bounding out of the brush. Dimitri fumbled backwards, losing his footing as the small beast, about the size of a badger, landed a mere foot from him. Its body was compact and agile, but its mouth was gigantic. It had the jaws of a modest tiger, and its feet came ablaze when it walked, melting and crisping the soil beneath it.

Petite Blaze Monkey | Grade: C

“Oh, shit, shit, shit. Down, boy,” Dimitri instructed, his voice wavering; he desperately pressed down the panic that was building in his throat. He had never seen a monster in person before, and certainly not a Grade C one. He’d only ever heard whispers of the feral creatures from traveling adventures, poured over drawings of them in monster encyclopedias.

The forests were forbidden for a reason, and now he was staring that reason right in the face.

The creature smacked its mouth open and closed repeatedly, exposing its all-black incisors. It pressed its upper body down to the ground and hissed, poised to strike.

“No, no, no, that’s not what I meant by down–”

With a terrible screech, the creature pounced.

“[Soulreaper’s Rush]!” Dimitri screamed, throwing his hands in front of his face protectively.

Just as the Blaze Monkey’s teeth were about to wrap around his nose, a wild wisp of green flame erupted from the palms of his hands. It enveloped the creature completely, incinerating it in an instant. It was so fast that the monkey didn’t even have time to scream–it simply disintegrated, leaving only a pile of debris on the scorched soil.

“Did I – did I do that?”

Completely paralyzed, Dimitri stared at the ashes of the beast laying before him. Before he put on that mask, he had the fighting prowess of a snail; yet, somehow, with an action as simple and innocuous as laying the mask’s leather straps behind his ears, he had seemingly inherited the eons-old magic of Vortigern’s. The powers that let them rule over the valley, unopposed, for hundreds and hundreds of years.

He was not just a mere impersonation of the Overlord of Idra. He had become the Overlord of Idra – with enough Mana and his fingertips to level a monster to dust.

The weight of the realization bearing down on him, Dimitri fell to the grass. His hands floated upwards, gripping the edges of his mask.

“What have I done?”