I Am the Abyssal Demon God of Nazarick

Year 2138.

In a world where human technology has reached its peak but global energy sources have been depleted, the earth is in constant turmoil. Fear and despair grip every corner of the world. Nearly a quarter of humanity has perished for various reasons.

Without wealth, ordinary people are relegated to the slums, working tirelessly as machines, struggling just to earn a meager sum to survive another day.

In this dog-eat-dog era, where the poor have no access to either spiritual or material fulfillment, there is only one form of solace—a online RPG called DMMO. This game offers a brief respite to the underprivileged, allowing people to connect their brains to the virtual world, slowing down their metabolism to conserve resources.

The sky is overcast, the entire world trapped within a bleak, gray sphere. It feels as if the world itself is drowning in malice, much like the "Abyss" in the game—a place polluted and suffused with evil. The rain, thick and tainted, falls, contaminated with bacteria, while the ground in the slums is littered with discarded machinery and garbage. The foul, pungent smell assaults the senses, making it nearly impossible to endure.

Yet, for those who have lived here long enough, their sense of smell has long since dulled. Walking aimlessly through the slums only elicits a slight frown.

—Click, click, click...

A young man with black hair and dark eyes wiped the grime from his cheek as he made his way through the filthy street of the slum, slowly reaching the door of an old, decrepit apartment building.

With ease, he climbed the rusted iron staircase, stepping lightly over the half-collapsed steps.

When he opened the door, the dimly lit, worn interior of the small apartment came into view. He cast a cursory glance before averting his gaze. With a sigh, he tossed a low-quality nutritional supplement, used only to stave off hunger, onto the table. He then lay back, staring up at the cracked ceiling.

—Buzz... buzz...

His old, battered phone buzzed. Honestly, he thought it was a miracle the thing still received messages. He didn’t expect much more from it. Glancing at the cracked screen, he noticed a message that caused a slight change in his expression.

“Satoru?”

Looking more closely, he saw the message was from his friend, Suzuki Satoru. He was someone he had met through the game and later met in real life. In a world like this, where most people were alone, he was one of the few friends he could truly trust.

The message was short and simple. Satoru was checking in on him, asking about his current situation and whether he had thought about logging back into their favorite DMMO game, YGGDRASIL.

YGGDRASIL—the "World Tree"—was once the most prominent and beloved virtual reality game to launch years ago, but that was twelve years ago. Now, the game was little more than a forgotten relic, and today was the day its servers would shut down forever.

Before this, Satoru had already messaged him several days in advance, wanting to experience the game's final moments together. It seemed he had sent the message now just to ensure his friend would make time for the final session.

"Sigh... At least I won't forget this."

A flicker of emotion passed through his deep, black eyes as he slowly turned off the phone.

His name was Arnold. He had been trapped in this miserable, apocalyptic world for over ten years now. In this world, where pollution was rampant, energy long depleted, and survival itself a luxury for the weak, life had become a struggle.

But today… today was different.

It was the final day before YGGDRASIL shut down, and this game had a special meaning to Arnold. It was based on a famous novel he had read before his transmigration into this world—a novel called Overlord. That’s right. He had been transported into the world of that very story.

Arnold knew that, at the very last moment before the server shutdown, his friend, Suzuki Satoru, would be transported to another world along with the guild they had formed in the game. In order to accompany him to that new world, Arnold had used all his savings, spent every last penny on in-game currency, and leveled up within the game. All just to make it to this final moment.

“I should log in now...”

Muttering to himself, Arnold grabbed the 'nutritional supplement'—his only means of survival in this harsh world—and smashed it onto the ground. This was a do-or-die move. He had already given his boss a piece of his mind on the way here, so if he didn’t succeed in the game’s transmigration… well, it was a fresh start.

"Link Start."

He whispered the connection phrase, and as his consciousness began to fade, he felt a sudden clarity as his senses adjusted. The oppressive atmosphere of the real world evaporated, and when he opened his eyes, he found himself in an entirely different place.

“…”

Arnold blinked, eyes wide, staring at the scene before him. He was seated at a massive round table, encrusted with jewels, surrounded by elegant chairs. The table was illuminated by an obsidian-like glow, shining in his eyes. He was sitting at one of the chairs.

—Click.

Seated across from him was a figure that would give anyone nightmares—a being draped in a luxurious purple-and-gold wizard's robe, adorned with sharp golden armor at the collar and edges. Beneath this robe, however, was nothing but bone—no flesh, no organs. A massive skull with deep black eye sockets seemed to burn with a flickering hell fire.

This was an undead being.

“Arnold... you really came…”

The voice that emerged from the skull didn't match its appearance at all. It spoke with warmth, even a hint of nostalgia, as if meeting an old friend. The skull’s outwardly gruff and intimidating appearance was at odds with the affection in its tone. This was none other than Suzuki Wakaru, known in-game as "Momonga."

Across from him, Arnold’s appearance was also far from human. Cloaked in jet-black armor, his form was covered in strange, curse-like black and purple flames, while a long tail covered in silver-red scales flicked behind him. Black, ink-like wings spread from his back.

Aside from his silvery-white hair and the unsettling golden-red vertical pupils that would chill anyone who looked directly at them, there was nothing human about his appearance. His face was entirely obscured by a twisted, pitch-black mask.

A demon.

"Ah… It’s been about a month, hasn’t it? I’ve been busy with a lot of things, so I’m sorry I couldn’t log in sooner."

"What are you talking about? I should be the one apologizing! I knew you were busy, yet I still asked you to log in. I feel bad."

"You’re the same as ever—always apologizing first."

The two of them casually chatted, much like they did when they were part of the same team. Even in this final moment, they couldn't help but laugh. Arnold hadn’t logged in for so long because he had been taking care of his affairs—everything was now in order. All the money he could spare had been invested in the game. The rest had been transferred to Satoru’s account. He wasn’t about to leave a single cent for those damned streetlamp bosses.