Copyright
OVERLORD VOLUME 12
KUGANE MARUYAMA
Translation by Emily Balistrieri
Cover art by so-bin
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
©Kugane Maruyama 2017
First published in Japan in 2017 by KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo. English translation rights arranged with KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo, through Tuttle-Mori Agency, Inc., Tokyo.
English translation © 2020 by Yen Press, LLC
Yen Press, LLC supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Maruyama, Kugane, author. | So-bin, illustrator. | Balistrieri, Emily, translator.
Title: Overlord / Kugane Maruyama ; illustration by So-bin ; translation by Emily Balistrieri.
Other titles: Ōbārōdo. English
Description: First Yen On edition. | New York, NY : Yen On, 2016–
Identifiers: LCCN 2016000142 | ISBN 9780316272247 (v. 1 : hardback) | ISBN 9780316363914 (v. 2 : hardback) | ISBN 9780316363938 (v. 3 : hardback) | ISBN 9780316397599 (v. 4 : hardback) | ISBN 9780316397612 (v. 5 : hardback) | ISBN 9780316398794 (v. 6 : hardback) | ISBN 9780316398817 (v. 7 : hardback) | ISBN 9780316398848 (v. 8 : hardback) | ISBN 9780316398862 (v. 9 : hardback) | ISBN 9780316444989 (v. 10 : hardback) | ISBN 9780316445016 (v. 11 : hardback) | ISBN 9781975308063 (v. 12 : hardback)
Subjects: LCSH: Alternate reality games—Fiction. | Internet games—Fiction. | Science fiction. | BISAC: FICTION / Science Fiction / Adventure.
Classification: LCC PL873.A37 O2313 2016 | DDC 895.63/6—dc23
LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2016000142
ISBNs: 978-1-9753-0806-3 (hardcover)
978-1-9753-0807-0 (ebook)
E3-20200519-JV-NF-ORI
Chapter 1 | Evil Emperor Jaldabaoth
1
The Sacred Kingdom Roebel was situated on a peninsula southwest of the Re-Estize Kingdom.
Ruled harmoniously by influential shrines and a holy king wielding powerful faith magic at the top, the Sacred Kingdom was a deeply religious country—though not to the extent of the Slane Theocracy.
The realm of the Sacred Kingdom had two unusual characteristics.
One was that its territory was split north and south by the sea. Of course, the two parts weren’t completely cut off from each other, but the land’s shape resembled a sideways horseshoe—and right in the middle was a giant bay stretching approximately twenty-five miles north to south and a hundred and twenty-five miles east to west.
This gulf is so great that some people distinguish between the northern Sacred Kingdom and the southern Sacred Kingdom.
There was one other notable thing.
A massive wall spanned the mouth of the peninsula, running over sixty miles north to south.
The purpose of the barrier was to prevent invasions from the various subhuman tribes who made their homes in the hilly area to the east that was situated between the Sacred Kingdom and the Theocracy.
The sheer thickness of this formidable wall, as well as the amount of time and national power devoted to its construction, spoke volumes about how much Roebel had suffered and mourned at the hands of its neighbors.
The gap in innate ability between subhumans and humanoids is vast.
Certain races like goblins could be considered an exception.
Goblins are significantly smaller in stature than humans. They are often inferior in terms of physical ability, intelligence, and number of casters born in the population.
But even goblins could prove a troublesome foe if they took advantage of their night vision and ability to conceal themselves—for example, lying in ambush under the cover of darkness in the forest.
As a matter of fact, most of the various races in the region were far more muscular than humans. Quite a few were born with arcane powers as well. If the Sacred Kingdom allowed an invasion to occur, the blunder would surely be paid for with a terrible amount of blood.
Which was why its people went to such lengths just to strengthen its defenses.
To prevent subhumans from setting so much as a foot in its territory.
To show them this land belonged to someone else.
To make sure all its enemies knew that any who dared to trespass would be in for the fight of their lives.
These were the reasons why the wall had been raised. Unfortunately, there was a problem.
Fully maintaining the fortifications required a vast number of soldiers. On one occasion, the Sacred Kingdom’s leaders estimated how many soldiers would be required to defend against a subhuman invasion.
The result of their investigation showed that the nation would collapse long before the invaders ever mounted an attack.
It wasn’t economically feasible to have so many soldiers on standby at the walls. At the same time, everyone agreed that they had to man the defenses to a certain degree.
The worst encroachment in the history of the Sacred Kingdom—that took place after the wall had been built—was an attack that came with rain that kept up for days.
This raid was conducted by the srasch, a race with suckers on their limbs and long tongues that could cross great distances to deliver paralyzing venom. Some elite members of their kind could even change the color of their skin and achieve an effect similar to the Camouflage spell.
These were the invaders who scaled the wall and pushed westward.
Multiple villages fell victim to their predations. The tragedy was so great that rumors of srasch lurking somewhere inside the kingdom persist to this day.
With the past weighing heavily in their minds, the leaders of the Sacred Kingdom wanted to make sure they had enough soldiers to prevent a repeat of those dark days. The concept was simple in theory, but manning the walls using standard methods would have been too great a strain on the country. The solution was a series of forts, established at fixed intervals along the length of the wall, which were in turn supervised by larger regional fortresses.
The smaller forts were garrisoned with only enough soldiers to delay the enemy. In the event one came under concentrated attack, their main responsibility was to immediately light a signal fire to request backup from nearby fortresses. There were also companies that regularly patrolled between forts that could be used as flexible reserves in a pinch.
Once these new measures were in place, the subhuman tribes stopped attacking the wall.
Despite this improvement, the leaders of the Sacred Kingdom remained o
bsessively cautious. The string of bastions wasn’t enough to give them peace of mind.
A massive fortress that might intimidate a human was hardly a threat to races double their size or those who could fly. No matter how durably built, no simple stronghold could provide total security against the special abilities of other races.
The holy king at the time was a decisive ruler who wasted little time before starting work on a policy for what to do in the event invaders scaled their great wall. And so the National Mobilization Order was born.
The decree codified the conscription of the Sacred Kingdom’s citizens. Upon coming of age, everyone, regardless of sex, would undergo training as a soldier and have their turn at a post somewhere along the wall. With this system in place, there was supposed to be enough soldiers to defend the land if the subhumans ever attacked.
Furthermore, settlements that grew past a certain size were fortified. This was both so the residents could hold out until the royal army arrived and so the locations could also be used as logistic bases. Thus, the villages and cities of the Sacred Kingdom were strengthened to an unparalleled level, essentially functioning as military bases.
•
Three large fortresses anchored the kingdom’s line of defense. There were only three gates in the huge, sixty-plus-mile wall, and these imposing bastions defended the critical entry points. They also functioned as barracks for the troops that would reinforce the smaller forts in case of attack. If subhumans attacked in force and the National Mobilization Order was invoked, the large strongholds would also become the marshaling points for the massive armies of citizen-soldiers who would try to pin down the invaders for follow-up pincer attacks.
One of these forts served as the central base.
As the sun sank behind the distant horizon, the reddened earth gradually surrendered to the color of the advancing dusk. With his foot up on the battlement, a man frowned as he stared out at the red earth—specifically toward the hills to the west—before setting his leg back down.
He was a brawny fellow.
Sturdy neck, a bulky chest (obvious even beneath his armor), and muscular arms coming out of his rolled-up sleeves. No matter what part of this man was being described, the only appropriate word was thick.
His face, resembling a boulder exposed to the elements for years, had a feral look about it, perhaps in part due to his heavy eyebrows and stubble. Some might say his tough demeanor was in harmony with his rugged physique, but his eyes ruined that balance.
His beady eyes were those of a small animal, and the stark difference between them and the rest of his body was downright comical.
He craned his head up.
Wispy clouds blew by at a surprising speed. He could spy the starry canopy peeking out from behind the thin veil covering the sky, but it was hardly bright enough to light up the ground.
Breathing in the chilly, early autumn air—mixed with a hint of winter’s scent—made the coming of night feel closer, more immediate. Only a few lingering holdouts of sunlight still colored the horizon as the violet of evening rapidly expanded its holdings.
Turning his back to the hills, the man looked over the faces of the soldiers nearby. Those gathered around him, who believed in him, were all veteran warriors. Yet, even their expressions were slightly slack.
That was only natural. After all, it was the end of a long day of work.
“—Hey, any of you know what the weather observer’s forecast is for the night?” His voice had the depth to match his robust body. The question he raised caused the soldiers to exchange glances. Eventually, one spoke up for all of them.
“Apologies, Your Excellency. It seems like no one here has.”
The burly man—Orlando Campano—sat at a rather low rung as far as rank was concerned.
In the Sacred Kingdom, the ranks of the army were, from lowest to highest: trainee, soldier, soldier first-class, squad leader, company leader, and commander. Of course, depending on each person’s role, there could be less intuitive pecking orders, but this was how the regular soldiers were generally organized.
The rank of squad leader certainly wasn’t high enough to warrant being called “Your Excellency.”
But the soldier who addressed Orlando wasn’t mocking him. It was clear from his attitude and tone that the title was a sign of respect. And that sentiment was shared by all the soldiers present, a group of warriors that exuded power and experience.
“Ah, all right, then.” Orlando slowly stroked his stubbly chin.
“Your Excellency, if you give me the time, I can go ask right now.”
“Hmm? Oh, that won’t be necessary. Our work is done. The rest is up to the next crew.”
Orlando Campano…
A man awarded one of the prestigious Nine Colors by the previous holy king on the merits of his strength alone.
Why was someone of his standing stuck as a lowly squad leader? This boiled down to two problems.
One was his penchant for going his own way—the man truly hated taking orders.
The second was his imprudent focus on strength above all else.
The intersection of those two issues manifested as If you want to give me orders, then first you’ll have to put my rump on the ground. Moreover, whenever he spotted someone strong, he would say, “You look like a tough customer. Let’s see who’s stronger,” and go at it until one of them was down for the count.
As a result, Orlando often and sometimes literally bashed heads with nobles and superiors. He also frequently got demoted—a whopping ten times so far.
An army has no need for people who can’t take orders—they’re pests. Anyone else with his record would either be reformed or thrown out. The only reason that didn’t happen to Orlando was because he was strong. Also, certain people were drawn to a man like that.
Apparently, the rough guys dissatisfied with being ordered around by feeble nobles found Orlando’s way of life an utter delight, inspiring them to also grasp what their hearts desired with the strength of their own two hands.
His troops consisted of people who admired that sort of ruffian.
It was a large squad, too. There were enough members for a full company, and they were all strong—albeit not as much as their leader. Though infuriating for his superiors, the immunity Orlando enjoyed allowed him to essentially establish a rank not subject to the rules of the system.
Orlando’s eyes shifted, and when he saw the approaching man, a smile spread across his face that wouldn’t be out of place on a carnivorous beast about to pounce.
This man was as thin as Orlando was thick. But he wasn’t thin like a twig. Perhaps it was best described as slim like steel. This was the ideal lean body that was the product of training until all excess had been cut away, as if it had been built with a specific purpose in mind.
And a sharp gaze emanated from his tense eyes that made it seem as if he was about to strike. Combined with the fact that they were small and dark, there was no helping how disreputable he seemed. At best, people would assume he was an assassin. At worst, a serial killer.
“Speak of the devil. Guess it’s time for your appearance, Mr. Night Watch? Thanks as always.”
The man who had appeared without a sound and walked while cloaked in silence was outfitted quite differently.
Orlando and his men were equipped with the gear of the Sacred Kingdom’s powerful soldiers. Their heavy leather armor was made of several layers of hide that came from the magical beasts called ranker oxen. Each of them also had a small round shield and a single-edged sword. Incidentally, Orlando was the only one wearing two of those swords.
In contrast, this man was clad in enchanted light leather armor. Inscribed on the right side of his chest was an owl, and on the left, the Sacred Kingdom’s coat of arms.
“…Orlando. I haven’t gotten a report from your group. And what kind of tone is that to take with a superior? The nerve. How many times do I have to warn you?”
“Sorry, Commander.”
When Orlando finally raised a lax salute, his group followed suit. It was sincere in a way his men would have shown a random noble or someone merely higher in rank. This was a sign of genuine respect.
“Haaah…” The newcomer heaved a conspicuous sigh. He wasn’t satisfied, but he also understood that it was pointless to say anything further.
Sorry, sir, but my personality’s been like this for as long as I can remember, and it isn’t likely to be fixed anytime soon.
The reason Orlando showed what passed as respect among his group was because this man had defeated him.
I don’t want to quit without beating you at least once. On your turf. You understand, right, Commander Baraja?
The man—Pabel Baraja—was also known as the Night Watch. He was also a recipient of one of the Nine Colors, like Orlando.
The huge, sturdy bow on his back glowed faintly, as did the quiver at his hip. As his equipment implied, he was an archer—and an expert who many said could nail a hundred shots without missing a single one.
“I think all the time how hard it must be to work at night. Most subhumans aren’t fazed by the dark; it’d be rough enough just to find them, never mind fight them.”
“That’s why we’re here. Unless you were born with magic or special powers, there’s no way to get the same vision as subhumans without extensive training. And that’s exactly what we’ve been through.”
“Yeah, yeah. That daughter you’re so proud of has, too, right?”
Pabel’s cheek twitched, and Orlando regretted his remark the moment it was out of his mouth.
Pabel’s face never cracked, even when they went out drinking; the only exception was when his wife or daughter came up in conversation. If that happened, one critical flaw was immediately noticeable.
“Yes, she’s quite an outstanding girl.”
—Here it comes. Here it comes again.
Pabel continued with no regard for Orlando’s regret. “That said, I have no idea why she wants to be a paladin. She’s weak. But if you think that strength is everything— She’s the kind of girl who cries that caterpillars are scary— I know I said that strength is everything, but that’s excluding my wife…although my wife is a bit like that— My daughter looks just like me, which is so cute, though I guess I pity her for resembling me— But it’s too bad our girl has no aptitude for the sword. Still, she’s handy with a bow. She should really just keep working on her marksmanship, but instead, she’s all worked up about becoming a holy knight—”
The Paladin of the Sacred Kingdom Part I Page 1
