I Am the Abyssal Demon God of Nazarick

Before them, Albedo appeared strangely lifeless, her expression blank and stiff. She resembled a mannequin—bereft of vitality, as though her soul had lost, leaving a doll devoid of any sense of life. 

But this was hardly surprising. After all, at this moment, Arnold was still just an NPC in the game. Even live players couldn’t manage to express any emotions, let alone artificial NPCs like her.

On the other side, a group of maids led by the tall, white-haired butler could be seen. These were the battle maids of the Pleiades the Seven Sister, commanded by Sebas Tian, the steward of the Great Tomb of Nazarick. Their usual duties involved guarding the Throne Room and managing the daily affairs of the Ninth and Tenth Floors.

“Is this one of the NPCs made by Touch-san and the others?” 

“Yeah, I think so. I recall that Albedo was a creation of Tabula. It took him quite a while to finish her model…”

Thinking about the fact that Tabula, the settings fanatic, was the mastermind behind Albedo, Momonga grew even more curious. He couldn't quite imagine how Tabula would have set her up—considering his penchant for strange, contrasting characteristics, it was likely far from ordinary.

Lost in thought, Momonga couldn't help but use his guild leader privileges to peek at Albedo's setup. Normally, if Tabula Smaragdina found out about this, he'd probably chase Momonga around for the rest of the day, enraged.

Meanwhile, Arnold was checking his system inventory, confirming that all of his stats and equipment were in place. Although he felt it wasn’t particularly necessary, he still ran through a final check just to be safe.

After meticulously going over every piece of gear and attribute, he glanced over at Momonga—who was sneakily fiddling with something. Curiosity piqued, Arnold walked over.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing, nothing at all!!”

With a start, Momonga jumped to his feet, looking as nervous as a student caught by a teacher while staring at an empty exam paper.

In a flash, he quickly closed the Albedo setup screen and tried to act as though nothing was happening, glancing in a completely different direction.

“You weren’t sneaking a peek at Albedo’s setting, were you?”

“No, no, no! Why would I do that? You’ve got to trust me, Arnold?!”

Momonga grabbed Arnold’s black gauntlet with his unnaturally long, skeletal fingers. His eyes, deep and dark, locked onto his, radiating sincerity. His expression was strangely unashamed; in fact, it seemed like a gesture he had made countless times before, something he was long used to.

“Well, whatever. We’re at the end now. Even if I did peek at Tabula’s work, he probably wouldn’t care, right?”

Arnold yawned, glancing at the time in the top left corner. It was already 11:59 PM—just one minute away from the game’s end.

“I bet they’re setting off fireworks outside. How about we reconnect later and grab a drink? We could take some time to relax after all this.”

“Your drinking habits? Maybe not,” he replied with a smile.

As the final moments of the game ticked closer, the two of them exchanged light banter. But as the countdown drew nearer, Momonga fell into silence, feeling an overwhelming sense of resignation.

It was as though all of his energy had drained from his body. He sank heavily into his throne, and together with Arnold, they awaited the final moment in quiet anticipation.

Tick… tick… tick…

The ticking of a clock echoed in their ears. Arnold slowly raised his head, watching the seconds slip away.

Meanwhile, Momonga felt a strange, hazy sensation. The sense of reluctance and helplessness in his heart slowly gave way to a faint sense of relief. 

At least, in this final moment, he wasn’t alone. Arnold was there beside him.

11:59:59. 

00:00:00…

The last second passed, and the moment of conclusion arrived. But Momonga paused for a moment, his gaze shifting to the top left corner, expecting to see the “server disconnected” notification. 

But it didn’t come. The interface was still calm and uninterrupted, and the time and avatar panels in the top right corner seemed to have vanished entirely, as if something had gone wrong.

A delay in the servers? A system error?

Could YGGDRASIL, the game company, still be making mistakes at this critical moment? Momonga felt his anger begin to bubble up. 

He had specifically stayed up late to experience the game’s final moments with his weary friend, only for a problem like this to crop up.

Arnold stood silently beside him, as though stretching from a yawn. He inhaled deeply, and that’s when he suddenly felt an unfamiliar fragrance in the air, along with a rush of power coursing through his body.

His fatigue seemed to vanish in an instant. He raised his arm slightly, feeling the raw energy within him—powerful enough that he could conjure searing flames with a mere thought. It was the kind of overwhelming sensation that could make someone feel like they were suffocating from sheer vitality.

Crack.

Arnold slowly lowered his head, then gently removed the twisted black mask that had been covering his face.

Underneath, a finely sculpted, calm visage was revealed. His crimson vertical pupils were alight with faint golden flames. As he moved, his silver-white hair swirled in the air, shimmering with an ethereal glow.

“Arnold..?”

Momonga froze, stunned. Since when had YGGDRASIL allowed someone to remove their gear by hand? And how was it possible that he could feel the faint heat of Arnold's pitch-black armor, which radiated a subtle but undeniable warmth?

“What’s happen, Momonga-sama?”

A voice, never heard before, suddenly reached Momonga’s ears. It was a soft, beguiling tone, one that seemed to electrify him as if he had been struck by a jolt of lightning. His body trembled, and his eyes immediately snapped to the source of the voice.

It was Albedo, the same lifeless NPC from before.

Now, her once stoic face bore an expression of human-like concern, a look filled with emotions that seemed almost too real to be an NPC’s. Her long, dark lashes fluttered, and her hands gripped nervously, as her faintly glowing golden irises trembled.

The affection in Albedo’s gaze was unmistakable—it was as if she were on the verge of overflowing with it. Momonga shuddered in response.

Such emotional actions should have been impossible in YGGDRASIL, and NPCs weren’t supposed to initiate conversation like this!

“Momonga, calm down,” Arnold said, his voice low and almost too soft to hear, only loud enough for those on the thrones to catch. In past campaigns, hearing his voice would have soothed Momonga instantly. 

But this time, there was something different. The magnetic quality of Arnold’s voice was unlike anything he’d ever heard before. If not for the sense of familiarity Arnold still gave him, Momonga might have wondered if his friend had been replaced.