Yggdrasil—the legendary DMMO-RPG that had once consumed the world—had reached its final hour. For twelve years it had stood unmatched: a world where countless guilds rose and fell, where titanic world-class enemies were hunted and slain, and where legends were forged in the fire of battle. But now, its servers ticked down toward death.
Of all its guilds, none were as infamous—or as feared—as Ainz Ooal Gown. In its golden age, it had been the scourge of humanoid players, a gathering of forty-one of the most skilled and ruthless heteromorphs to ever log in. But those days had passed. Now, with less than an hour until the shutdown, only two remained: the guild master, Momonga, and the Elder Black Ooze, Herohero.
> Momonga: "Thanks again for coming. It's been… a long time since I've seen anyone else here."
His voice echoed through the vast, silent tomb, carrying with it a faint thread of sorrow.
> Herohero: "Think nothing of it. It's the least I could do. Still… I'm amazed. The tomb looks even more magnificent than the day we claimed it."
The awe in Herohero's tone was genuine, though fatigue dragged at every word.
> Momonga: "I appreciate that. This place… it holds too many precious memories. I couldn't bear to see it fall into ruin."
> Herohero: "Being guild master always suited you. I can't imagine anyone else in your place."
> Momonga: "Will you stay until the end?"
> Herohero: "No… I can't. The moment I log out, I need to sleep if I want to make it to work on time."
The answer landed like a weight in Momonga's chest. He had hoped—quietly, desperately—for one last stretch of conversation before the end.
> Momonga: "A shame. Your bosses are working you to death, aren't they?"
Old memories rose unbidden: countless raids missed, events postponed, plans cut short—all because Herohero had been trapped in the grind of reality.
> Herohero: "Yeah. If things keep up like this, I might actually die for real."
A pause, then a faint, almost wistful chuckle.
> Herohero: "Still… it's been fun. Really fun. Maybe, if Yggdrasil 2.0 ever happens, we could all meet again."
"Ah—look at the time. Midnight's almost here. I've got to go."
A small, sad-faced emoticon appeared beside his avatar as he prepared to disconnect.
"See you later, Momonga."
His voice was calm, but Momonga could hear the undercurrent of sorrow. They both knew the truth: the odds of Yggdrasil 2.0 ever existing were almost zero.
> Momonga: "See you later, my friend."
Herohero's form flickered and vanished, leaving only the emptiness of the room—and the ache of absence.
See you later? When? The thought clawed at Momonga's mind. We don't even have each other's phone numbers…
His words echoed hollowly through the Tomb of Nazarick. All that remained now was the countdown, and the silence.
Don't think like that, Suzuki. He came to say goodbye. It's not like he abandoned us. No one can choose a game over reality forever. That's just… life. At least we had fun while it lasted.
Momonga rose from his seat, letting his gaze linger for a final moment on the table where countless meetings, arguments, and laughter had once filled the air. With a slow breath, he reached into his inventory and withdrew the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown.
"It feels wrong to take the guild weapon from its display case… but on the last day, what harm could it do?"
The staff was the guild's ultimate treasure. It had taken weeks of coordinated effort to forge, its creation turning into a competition among members. They had challenged one another to gather rarest materials, racing against time and each other for bragging rights.
At first glance, it gleamed like solid gold, but a closer look revealed it was formed from condensed scales of the World Eater itself. Its rich golden hue came from Shards of the Heart of the World Tree, woven into its core. Crowning its peak were seven serpents, each holding a gemstone that pulsed with unfathomable power—prizes only won after defeating world-class bosses. Occasionally, a dark aura coiled from it, a whispering miasma made from the souls of the damned, forever bound to the weapon.
Leaving the room, Momonga noticed seven figures lined neatly to the side.
"What were their names again…?"
He opened the guild menu, scrolling through the roster until he found them.
"Ah, the Pleiades—our final line of defense. It's a shame… they never even had the chance to fight."
The sight of them stirred memories—one in particular burned brightly. The day Nazarick had faced the largest raid in Yggdrasil's history: 1,500 players united against them, determined to wipe Ainz Ooal Gown from existence. They had been annihilated before reaching the ninth floor.
"Follow."
The Pleiades obeyed without hesitation.
Normally, Momonga rarely walked the tomb's corridors. With the Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown, he could teleport anywhere instantly. But now, with the end so close, he allowed himself to take in its grandeur.
The marble walls shone pristine white, pure as the gates of heaven. The ceiling was adorned with crystalline chandeliers, each crafted from Ulbert's hoarded collection of flawless crystals. They glowed softly from within, no candles or bulbs needed—each had been individually enchanted with the Fifth-Tier spell \[Continual Light]. The floor was draped in a deep red carpet spun from the silk of the divine spider Arachne, its texture smooth beneath his boots.
At last, he came to the doors of the throne room—a term that felt almost humble for such a structure. Sixteen feet high, the gates bore intricate carvings: an angel as pure as midnight sky on the left, and on the right, a devil born from the deepest hell. Their creator, Luci★Fer, had never been one to overlook detail.
Inside, the throne room stretched vast enough to hold over a thousand souls. The ceiling soared more than three hundred feet overhead, vanishing into shadow. Forty-one towering pillars lined the approach to the throne, each draped with a banner bearing the crest of one of the guild's founding members.
As Momonga walked between them, memories washed over him—every triumph, every failure, every laugh shared with his comrades. If the game allowed it, tears would have blurred his vision.
He ascended the final steps and sat upon the Throne of Kings. To his side stood Albedo, the Guardian Overseer—the most powerful NPC in Nazarick.
"Tabula made this one, didn't he?"
He opened her backstory file, idly skimming—until his eyes froze.
"HUH!?"
He blinked, rereading the offending line, startled that Tabula would include something so… questionable in her settings. It was technically fitting for a succubus, but still…
With a resigned sigh, he deleted the sentence, replacing it with something more fitting.
"There. It feels wrong to change someone else's creation, but… it's for the better. Not that it matters—when the servers go down, she'll vanish with everything else."
His eyes flicked to the in-game clock in the corner of his HUD.
"Just in time."
He leaned back in the throne, letting his mind wander—though inevitably, it drifted outside this world. Suzuki Satoru. An office worker scraping by, some weeks unable to afford a decent meal. A man living in a world so toxic that stepping outside without a mask was a death sentence.
Yggdrasil had been his escape. His reason to wake each day. Without it… there was nothing.
Dark thoughts began to coil around him, heavy and suffocating.
"Maybe… maybe I should just end it when the servers shut down."
A bitter laugh escaped his skeletal lips.
"Not like anyone would notice. Or care."
The clock kept counting down.
23:56:34
23:56:56
23:57:23
"It's hard to believe that twelve years of work will vanish in minutes."
23:58:09
23:58:37
23:58:56
"I'll miss this place. More than I can say."
23:59:07
23:59:48
00:00:00
"Goodbye… Yggdrasil."