Their weapons clashed in a flash of metal.

Both Simon and Thalas had gained extraordinary power thanks to their Classes, to the point that they could probably challenge a cave troll to an armwrestling match and win. The shockwave set off by their clash echoed loudly across the courtyard, neither of them giving an inch.

Simon could tell Thalas still had the edge over him in raw strength, which suggested he was above level sixty, likely around sixty-five or so. Thankfully, Simon’s own buffs more than compensated for this deficiency.

Lorimor and Belzemine moved to flank Thalas from both sides, but Simon stopped them with a telepathic command. “Leave him to me. Regroup with Casval’s squad and get the other students. Get Anna.”

Beating Thalas by himself was something he needed to do for his own peace of mind.

Thalas’ eyes widened in horror when he saw Lorimor and Belzemine rush towards the students at the courtyard’s threshold, which gave Simon the opening he needed. “Ruin.”

Thalas’ vision went white and sores appeared all over his body as a multitude of ailments took hold of him, though it appeared Madness wasn’t one of them. Either way, having been blinded let Simon slip past his guard and hit him in the chest with enough strength to throw him against a wall. Simon then quickly followed it up with a Chaos Wave, the shockwave blowing him through the stone wall and into the Academy itself.

Simon stepped into the hall and realized Thalas had landed in the Tribal Studies classroom, ironically enough. His half-brother had crashed onto Mr. Adrissant’s desk, though neither the teacher nor students were present.

“Had enough?” Simon asked.

“Not quite,” Thalas replied as he rose up to his feet. To Simon’s surprise, the sores on his body vanished, as did the whiteness in his eyes. Did he have an item or Perk that allowed him to heal from such ailments?

More surprisingly, Thalas’ hand reached for his belt and brought out some kind of oil that he poured over his axe.

“What’s that?” Simon taunted him as he put on his Spell for Speed ring. “Hair lotion?”

“Demonslaying oil,” Thalas admitted. “Sacred Rune.”

His axe glowed with otherworldly symbols and sacred light, and he crossed the gap between him and his opponent in a dash of speed that Simon had to admit was impressive. Still, the Agility boost granted by his ring let him dodge and counter with a mace blow to Thalas’ face, drawing blood.

“Since when did you learn strategy?” Simon taunted him as he lunged for another blow.

“Since you taught me not to underestimate you, demon,” Thalas replied, scowling. “Magic Eraser.”

Realizing the danger, Simon immediately switched Spell for Speed for Strength for Speed and then cast a Chaos Wave to repel Thalas. However, his half-brother simply threw his axe at him instead, with Simon barely having the time to raise his arms to intercept the weapon as it struck him with immense power. Its holy light dispelled his Nightveil, his Shadowshield, and all of his other buffs while throwing him back against the chairs and desks.

Supereffective damage! All spells and buffs dispelled!

Simon recalled that a similar blow would have killed him without Leonard absorbing the damage, but that had been thirty levels ago. While the impact hurt and the axe managed to pierce past his armor, it wasn’t life-threatening.

The true impact of the strike was lifting the Nightveil and revealing Simon’s true Class for Thalas to see. A flash of absolute fury passed over his gaze, as expected, but his next question still took Simon aback.

“Are you inside him, Father?!” Thalas asked, his axe somehow flying back to his hand. “Are you the one I’m speaking to right now?”

“What are you babbling on about?” Simon inquired as he quickly drained one of his thralls to heal his wound.

“Are you possessing him?!” Thalas replied, growling with cold fury as he charged. “Is that why you kept him around?! So you could wear his body like a suit?!”

Did Thalas honestly think Balzam had cheated death by possessing his bastard son? He was technically right about his soul lingering inside the Overlord Class, but Simon simply shrugged as he fired off an Ectoplasmer. “Why would our father hitch a ride in my mind, Thalas?”

“You started acting weird the night he died, and we found out he commissioned body-possession research,” Thalas replied as he cut the Ectoplasmer spirit in midair with his axe. It made Simon wonder if they had found Duchar’s archive or if his father had commissioned other sorcerers to proceed with creating their own soul-switching helm. “I understand wanting to kill me after what I put you through, Simon, but why does Beleth have to burn?”

“Are you seriously trying to pretend to be a hero concerned for his citizens?” Simon sneered in disgust. He dodged Thalas’ strike–the impact shattering the floor beneath them—and then quickly retaliated by grabbing his shoulder. “Timethief.”

Thalas slowed down, as did the world around Simon.

Hastened status.

Continuing his movement, Simon tightened his grip on Thalas’ shoulder before he could remove his axe from the ground and then threw him across the room before he could recover, his back slamming against a wall.

“You, a royal brat so spoiled that a Noble Crestone and a life of privileges weren’t enough to fill the void our father’s cruelty left in his heart?” Simon taunted him before following through with a new spell of his. “Gigatox.”

His hand fired a huge sludge of dark green and viscous ooze at Thalas, drowning him in filth. So acidic was Gigatox that it ate away at the stone wall and floor while leaving Thalas screaming in pain as it burned his skin and seeped poison into his wounds. Though whatever ability he had let him heal from the Poisoned ailment, it didn’t heal his wounded, purple flesh. Simon followed through with another Chaos Wave throwing him through the damage wall and into the Academy’s empty corridors outside the classroom.

“What, no cursing?” Simon asked, squinting at Thalas as he whipped away the sludge with a swing of his axe. His half-brother managed to get back up, but Simon had to admit he found his performance lackluster so far. “Where are your murderous instincts, Thalas? The promise that killing will make you happy?”

Thalas stared at him without a word, his half-putrefied lips twisting. He took a deep breath, stopping his attack for a reason that defied comprehension.

“You were right,” he said, so low Simon hardly heard him.

Those three more words froze the blood in Simon’s veins and rattled him more than a sacred axe thrown to his chest. “What did you just say?”

“You were right,” Thalas admitted, gripping his axe. “I hated and bullied you because I thought it would make me feel better, that it would please our father…” He scowled. “But it never did. Anna helped me see that.”

Simon stared at his half-brother in disbelief, unable to process the words coming out of his mouth. He… he listened? Thalas Magnos, Berserker and a spoiled bully of a man, had actually listened to another human being?

Simon suddenly realized why he had found his performance underwhelming so far. The man in front of him had none of the ferocity he showed during their fight in Magvolia, none of the murderous intent fueling his strikes.

“Are you…” Simon’s teeth clenched so hard it hurt. “Are you holding back, Thalas?”

“I don’t want to kill you anymore,” he admitted. “I’m…” He straightened up like a man facing his executioner. “I’m sorry, Simon.”

The words inspired such anger and revulsion in Simon’s heart that his vision turned bloody red for a second. How could he… how could he have the gall to grow a brain and moral fiber here and now, after ruining Simon’s happy times at the Academy? How dare he?!

“No, no, Thalas, you don’t get to be sorry now! Not after you ruined things for me yet again!” Simon raised his hand, his fingers crackling with lightning. “Hellthunder!”

The lightning surged in a flash, but Thalas made no move to dodge, even if it would have been useless to do so. The bolt struck him in the chest with enough voltage to burn a hole through his torso.

Or it would have, had the power not gone to waste on impact. Another force absorbed the blow and spared Thalas a shock.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“May the Lightstone of the ancients smite thee–”

Simon’s head snapped in the voice’s direction, at the tail end of the corridor. Anna was there in her Lord Class outfit with a fully-armored Leonard and Meredith. The latter rushed at Simon while Anna finished her incantation.

It couldn’t be–

“Starshot!”

Anna fired a projectile of light at Simon, who instinctively moved to dodge while casting Shadowshield. Meredith jumped at him with a glowing spear before he could renew his buff and struck a surprised Simon in the chest. The blow was weak and failed to pierce through Simon’s armor, but it still sent him reeling back from the surprise.

“Thalas, are you alright?!” Anna called out to Thalas as she and her allies rushed to his side. Simon watched on in horror as his honorary cousin cast a healing spell on Thalas. “Kind lightstone, please Heal our wounds!”

What is going on here? Simon wondered in disbelief as he stared at his retainers. He could taste their fear from here, yet they stood firmly between him and his half-brother as if to defend him from…

From Simon.

Simon’s blood boiled in his veins as he noticed Anna didn’t look too surprised to see him in the Overlord armor… which could only mean one thing…

Not them too, Simon thought in disbelief, begging the Light and Dark that he was wrong, “What is the meaning of this?! You were supposed to wait for our allies in the library!”

“I am sorry, Overlord Simon,” Leonard admitted. He sounded genuinely contrite, but resolute. “We have chosen the path of loyal opposition.”

“A pretty word for treachery, Leonard,” Simon replied coldly, his anger rising. How could his own retainers, who had given their lives for him so many times in the past, turn coat now? Sitting out this conflict was one thing, but to threaten him… “Why? Why would you do this, after I let you go?!”

“Your Majesty, your Class is affecting your mind and clouding your judgment!” Meredith pleaded with him, her spear raised at her former master. “Allying with those dragons to burn imperial citizens, laying waste to your own empire… it is madness!”

“I can’t believe this!” Simon glared at Thalas. “How could you convince them of this… this baseless calumny?!”

“Simon, the Overlord is possessing you,” Anna said, her sword raised at him while Thalas infused his axe with a new rune. “We spent a month looking for you, investigating whatever kind of demon could have taken you over, but now I know the truth. My dad said yours was never the same once he put the mantle on, and I see why, Simon: you don’t wear the Class; it wears you.”

“This is foolish,” Simon replied, incensed. Why? Why was everything spiralling out of control this reign? “I may have changed, but this is for the greater good–”

“Whose greater good?!” Anna cut in. “You’re burning down a city of thousands with an army of dragons! How can we or our nation possibly benefit from this?!”

“Look at yourself,” Thalas added, a grim scowl on his face. “Those spells, that strength… It takes years for any Class to give you that kind of power. There’s a catch to it.”

It did take me years to gain this power, Simon thought in annoyance, though he was wise enough not to say it out loud. Years I spent killing you, killing innocents, sullying my hands so that I could save this empire, the world, and maybe even you.

Anna bit her lip, then walked forward to Meredith’s distress. “Your Highness–”

“Simon…” Anna extended a hand to him, rather than her sword. “If you’re still in there, call back your army, lift your siege, and let us talk this through.” She took a deep breath and exhaled. “Please. Killing people, burning cities… this isn’t you.”

This isn’t you.

Is… is it? Simon stared at her hand, suddenly distraught. The sight of Anna, one of his oldest friends and lover, pleading with him as if he were an archdemon in human skin to the point she and his former retainers would rather side with Thalas… it bothered him to his core. What… What do I want?

“It’s too late, Anna,” Simon admitted. He had to see what Vouivre was planning, what assets she could bring to bear, and what weaknesses he could exploit. He couldn’t just… walk away after coming so far. “The things I’ve set in motion can no longer be stopped. I have to see this through–”

“You don’t have to do anything!” Anna snapped back. “Tell your troops to drop whatever is blocking our evacuation, then let’s regroup in Marthrone! My father, the High Confessor, they can help you! I’m sure together we can find a way to…” She scowled in disgust at the Overlord armor. “To strip you of this evil… this demon thing puppeteering you.”

It’s the only way to ensure I can save the empire properly next time, Simon thought, trying to steel his resolve. Once I find the Chest of Worlds and Gargauth’s Abyssal Chronicle, I can… I can do much… stop Vouivre before she becomes a problem, put things back the way they were…

He was mulling over his answer when Anna and Thalas tensed up, noticing something at the end of the hallway.

“Is there a problem, my friend?” Casval asked.

Casval was there, in his human form, with Antonine de Shax and Lorimor floating behind them.

“Antonine!” Thalas immediately saw red and abandoned the group to rush to his fiancée's rescue, causing Casval to reflexively transform into his dragon form. His wings unfolded and hit the corridor’s ceiling, cracking the walls.

“Thalas, wait!” Anna called out to the Berserker, who still remained slowed down from Simon’s Timethief spell.

It’s too late, Simon told himself. Even if he were to follow Anna’s plan, it wouldn’t change Beleth’s fate either way. I have to see this through.

“Petrify!” He cast on Anna, trying to immobilize her for a moment in a way that would bypass Leonard’s damage transfer, but he felt his magic bounce off one of her accessories; her ribbon, of all things. Cursed ailment protection!

Meredith and Leonard tightened ranks to protect Anna and lunged at him with their sword and spear. Simon had no idea whether they meant to kill or simply incapacitate him, but he didn’t give them a chance to try. He drained them of their lifeforce and mana—stopping just short of killing them—through their brands until they collapsed at his feet before they could finish their attack, too weak to rise up.

Antonine herself put on her Courtesan Class outfit: a scarlet dress showing her booted legs and cleavage, with a fan and collar. She immediately began to dance, with Thalas likely expecting her to support him…

“Fire Amp!”

But unfortunately for him, she had been on the other team for some time already.

Her magic instead powered up Casval right as he opened his reptilian maw. Fire built up in his gullet, ready to burst.

It was then, thanks to his accelerated perception from the Haste spell, that Simon realized the danger of their current position: with Thalas and Anna trapped between him and an empowered dragon inside a small corridor.

“Casval, stop!” Simon shouted as loud as his lungs could call out, but it was too late.

Casval unleashed a searing breath into the corridor in a tidal wave of fire. It engulfed Thalas in an instant before continuing towards Anna.

Quickly putting on his Strength for Speed ring, Simon used Darkflight to throw himself at Anna while using Devil’s Arm to grab her. “Hellfros–”

He tried to encase Anna in ice right as the tidal wave of fire hit her.

Simon had perished twice to Casval’s flames, so the searing pain that rushed through his hand immediately reminded him of those two deaths. Antonine’s buff had increased the potency of his flames enough that they damaged him, and incinerated the flesh off Anna’s bones in an instant. Windows and doors shattered from the sudden pressure.

Then all went white for a second.

Simon didn’t die, being too tough to perish from the fire even without his Ring of Cursed Flame on, but his mind came to an abrupt halt. He just couldn’t string two thoughts together as his burned hand tightened his grip on molten flesh, at the blackened piece of charred meat Anna had turned into…

Then came the rush, both pleasurable and utterly odious.

Level 62 Overlord Perk: Land of Darkness III (Passive): Your Dungeon is now a seed of evil. Its effect radius will slowly expand beyond its landmark and twist the environment with miasma, mutating animals and local creatures into servants under your control.

The jolt of guilty pleasure caused his grip to loosen, and Anna’s body fell with a thump on the ground that jolted him back to reality.

“No, no, no! No!” Simon yelled as he rushed at her side, stepping over Meredith’s and Leonard’s ashes to reach her. He sent out a telepathic message to Belzemine, dispelled his armor, and frantically tried to save her. “Kind lightstone, restore our wounds with your Megaheal!”

His magic washed over Anna’s molten flesh without effect. Simon still cast it again, and again, and again…

“Friend Simon?” Casval inquired, sounding a bit embarrassed. “I am sorry, I overdid it…”

While Anna, Meredith, and Leonard were little more than smoking corpses, Thalas had managed to endure in spite of half his face now lacking skin and his hair having been burned away. In spite of his wounds, he only had eyes for Antonine.

“Why?” he whispered in disbelief.

“You dare ask me that, after betraying me for that whore?!” Antonine’s face twisted into an expression of pure scorn and fury. “I know you were plotting to set me aside so you can marry her!”

“That was my mother’s wish!” Thalas protested. He sounded genuinely ashamed, though his words were wasted on his fiancée. “I didn’t want any of this!”

“Liar! You will pay for shaming me and House Shax, you two-timing bastard!” Antonine snapped angrily as she did another footwork dance. “Magic Up!”

“You didn’t argue for Lady Antonine,” Lorimor said gleefully, his many eyes glowing with demonic energy empowered by his ally. “You didn’t have the courage to stand up for yourself, or for her… or maybe you thought a prince of your caliber deserved the best?”

He blasted Thalas in multiple places with eyebeams, especially his knees, and brought him down; though unlike Casval, he had the precision and sense to avoid his vitals. The Berserker’s outfit dispelled, and Thalas fell onto the ashes, grunting in pain while Antonine sneered at him.

Simon hardly paid attention to them. He kept chanting the same words again and again, channeling the Light Megalith’s power for the tenth time in a row. “Kind lightstone, restore our wounds with your Megaheal!”

His magic fizzled out again, for a very simple reason: that healing spell couldn’t affect the dead.

Simon already knew it was too late from the fact that his Deathmastery Perk informed him he could raise her as an undead. He stared at the corpse with anguish and a gaping feeling of emptiness, of remorse so stark it left him sickened in the gut.

“I swear it was a mistake,” Casval said, having retaken his human form and walked up to Simon’s side. He blinked a few times as if to reassure Simon. “But we still have the Berserker, alive! He can make for a fine replacement hostage!”

Simon hardly listened. He wanted to puke, to cover his mouth. His fingers were trembling, and his entire body was cold, even his burned hand. Not even accidentally killing Leonard in Magvolia had left him so… so shaken.

Anna was dead, alongside Meredith and Leonard. Three of the few people he cared about were dead and it was his fault, because he failed to tell them the truth, because he failed to convince them, because… because he chose this. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

“We can replace her,” Casval argued. “Your thralls can change shape, right? We can have one take her appearance, take her name, and you will have a new and pristine Anna again!”

His words were so abhorrent that Simon looked up to Casval, preparing to blast him with magic and tear him a new one… only for his anger to die in his throat. There was no venomous cruelty in Casval’s eyes, no remorse, no nothing.

He just… didn’t get it.

“Friend Simon?” Casval asked, now with could pass for curiosity, if not vague concern. “Are you broken?”

Casval was a dragon, with no sense of right or wrong… and Simon had chosen him and his sister over Anna.

“No,” Simon lied, his voice weak as he stared back at Anna with crushing guilt and remorse. “Everything… is as it is.”