[Prologue]
The night had ended. The fear hadn't.
A whisper lingered in the smoking ruins of the village. Wooden houses split by fire. Footprints in bloodied mud. A silence that wasn't peace: it was survival.
In the hollow beneath an old grain press, two human bodies trembled without moving.
The woman wrapped the child with her left arm, while with her right she held a blunt kitchen knife. Her eyes, red from staying open all night, barely blinked. The boy, no older than ten, breathed so slowly he seemed asleep… but he was still awake.
When the first birdcall broke the air, the woman didn't react. She waited. Then another. Then a third. Then, she let go of the knife.
—They're gone… —she whispered.
The boy lifted his head slightly.
—Are you sure?
She nodded, though her body was still shaking, not knowing whether from fear or exhaustion.
—If we were dead… we'd know by now.
They stepped out.
The world outside looked like another. Smoke instead of clouds, and ash instead of dust.
The air smelled like burnt leather, looted food… dry fear. The neighboring houses were open like broken mouths. Some with no roof. Some with no walls.
The boy didn't cry. He walked slowly through what was left of the main path. He saw a dead horse. He saw an old man covered with a blanket. He saw a lamp still lit, hanging from a rope that shouldn't have been there.
He returned to his mother.
—I don't want to be like them —he said. Not with anger. Not with heroism. Just with truth.
—I know you never will, my son —she replied.
—I don't want to be someone who hurts. And I don't want to be near those who do. Even if they promise me things, even if they say it's not that bad… I don't want to be part of it.
The mother knelt. She held his face in both hands. Her eyes were still red, but now for another reason.
—That makes you strong, my love. Not because you hate evil… but because you don't bargain with it, and that's a very good thing.
The boy blinked. She looked at the sky.
—I'm going to tell you something you won't like. But it's important that you know.
They sat against a fallen tree. She held him tight. Her voice changed: lower, more measured.
—There are bad ones. Like bandits. Hungry. Soulless. But there are others… worse. They don't come for your bread, or your house, or your mother. They come for you.
—For me?
—For your will. For your choices. For what you just said. That's what they want to break.
The boy clung to his mother's arm.
—They're called Overlords. There are seven. Each one is an extreme of something we all carry inside. Envy. Gluttony. Pride... —she named them like someone reciting a spell—. They're powerful. They can give you everything. They can make you feel special. But everything they give, they give to get something in return. Always.
—And if I refuse?
—They laugh. Maybe because they don't care or maybe because they know someday you'll need something. Maybe both.
The mother lowered her voice, as if the air itself could betray them, even though no one was near anymore.
—...And when that day comes, they'll talk to you like they understand. They'll say exactly what you want to hear. They'll offer you strength, justice, revenge, comfort, love… Or something that looks like it. No matter what you choose… it will always be a trade. But they won't tell you what they take in return.
The boy said nothing. He just listened. Slowly, his fear began to harden into something else.
—What do they take?
—Everything that's left of you afterward.
The woman held him tighter.
—That's why, if anyone ever offers you something too perfect… remember this. Good things take time. Easy things come at a price. And eternal things are never free.
The boy nodded. He didn't cry. But his eyes were full of something just learning to be born: determination.
The mother closed her eyes for a moment. The wind brought them dust—but also light. The new day wasn't better. But it was new.
And somewhere, far from that ruined village, the balance of the world began to fracture without a sound.
Something was starting to change—not the earth, nor the sky… The rules themselves.
[Chapter 1: The Gathering of the 7]
- - -
At the center of an ancient castle, a cobblestone fortress suspended above the sea of perpetual mist, the walls breathed history. The torches emitted no flame, but a static violet glow, fueled by ancient magic. The main hall had the shape of an irregular hexagon, with seven equidistant thrones carved in black stone. Only they could enter. And none of them needed permission.
The first to materialize was Helestia. A slime with the figure of a young, beautiful woman, whose liquid golden hair dripped serenity. Her translucent skin glowed softly, and her steps were silent, as if walking in suspension. She observed—she was alone. Yet, she knew she wouldn't be for long.
And so it was. A crystalline figure—a golem—emerged from a fiery whirlwind, as if obsidian had learned to move: Ruby Rouge.
—You're always the first to arrive —said Ruby, taking her place to Helestia's left, without looking directly at her.
—And you always act surprised —Helestia replied.
Ruby let out a kind of short laugh, more like a vibration in her chest than a real sound.
—You know what scares me more than this meeting? That you know me that well.
—Habit. And time.
They fell silent. But it wasn't an uncomfortable silence between them.
—Do you think this meeting actually makes sense this time? —asked Ruby, adjusting her tone like adjusting a loose gem.
—Concept doesn't summon without reason —answered Helestia—. And if there's no reason now, there will be soon.
Ruby nodded.
—I get bored when there's no real value. But if it's Concept, I'll listen… even if it's just to see if his perfection rusts a little.
—You know it doesn't.
—I do. But I'll imagine it anyway.
Suddenly, an inexplicable wind crossed the place. No door opened, no movement in space, no tremor in the room. And yet, he appeared as if he had always been there: Bruno.
. . . -
He wore his eternal harlequin disguise: pale garments with stains that seemed to shift, and a strangely relaxed smile. He floated a few centimeters above the floor, arms crossed like an actor tired of his play.
—Helestia… Ruby… always the first, as usual, huh? —he said, as if arriving late were an achievement.
Bruno spun once in the air, gave an exaggerated bow, and dropped onto a stone bench right below him.
—Have you already talked trash about the ones who haven't arrived? Or am I missing it?
Helestia gave him a faint smile.
—None of us dares to speak ill of those who aren't present. At least, not when they're about to arrive.
—Ohh, infernal diplomacy. Delicious!
Ruby tilted her head.
—You didn't come because of the summons, did you?
Bruno feigned horror.
—You think I, a loyal harlequin, would ignore a call from Concept? Please. I just got lost in a few existential walls of my own palace. Time slipped right through me, ha.
Helestia lowered her gaze but said nothing. Ruby crossed her arms.
The silence that followed was... vibrant. A suffocating sensation without air.
Bruno stretched like he'd just woken up, letting out an exaggerated yawn.
—Don't you find it curious that I'm always the third? Not as punctual as Helestia, not as late as Xarvaltar. I'm trapped in a filler arc. Ohh, poor me!
—Or maybe it's your natural place —said Ruby, in a dry tone that clearly wasn't meant as a compliment.
—Ah! The gem cuts again! I love it. Your disdain is like expensive perfume: offensive, but irresistible.
—Don't bother, Bruno —said Helestia, her tone unchanged—. I have no patience for your riddles today.
—Neither do I, but I can't help being enigmatic. It's a curse with style.
.
He did a floating somersault and landed sitting backwards on the bench, arms resting on the backrest with theatrical flair.
—And what if Concept doesn't show up? Should we debate anyway? Play "Guess Which Overlord Turned Traitor"?
—It's not a game —said Ruby, without looking at him.
—Everything's a game —replied Bruno, just before the sound changed.
The door opened… A small but imposing figure appeared: Anubi5.
Shiny metallic body, steel skin, almost childlike facial features, and jackal ears. Her eyes were expressionless; she didn't look, didn't greet. She simply walked to one of the far ends of the hall and sat in one of the most distant chairs, staring at the ground as if the world didn't interest her—but she wasn't resting. She was in standby.
Bruno was the first to speak.
—Ahhh, what joy. The sun of our lives. How are you, Anubi?
The metallic figure turned her head slightly.
—Don't interrupt my reading.
—Reading?
—The coherence of the summons. I'm analyzing the probability of an unusual deviation in Concept's pattern.
Ruby lowered her head. Helestia sighed softly.
—You were missed —said Helestia, with genuine cordiality.
—Don't miss me —replied Anubi5, emotionless—. I don't plan to disappear.
Bruno smiled.
—Who does?
And the echo of that phrase hung in the air, as if something invisible were preparing to answer it…
Minutes passed and the tension stretched between silences, as if each of them waited for another to speak first. Bruno hummed a tuneless melody under his breath, and Ruby, still standing, seemed to be mentally counting how many times Anubi5 blinked.
Spoiler: she didn't.
Then came a soft breeze through the room, but it wasn't air. It was warmth. A fragrance, a subtle shiver on the skin of those who could feel it. Lápida.
.-.
The undead appeared walking, with the grace of a queen who didn't need to announce herself. The warm smile on her face almost offensively contrasted with the symbols of death surrounding her.
—Hello, everyone —she greeted softly, kindly, as if arriving at a tea party—. It's good to see you again.
Ruby gave a slight nod.
—Lápida.
—Queen of Bones! —Bruno exclaimed theatrically, spinning in the air—. You come to bring peace to this hell, once again.
Lápida approached and gently placed a hand on Helestia's shoulder. The touch was natural, without pressure. Helestia, who rarely allowed physical contact, didn't move.
—All right, dear?
—As much as one can be before what we still don't know —Helestia replied.
Lápida nodded, but compassion gleamed in her eyes. She turned to Anubi5, who didn't look at her.
—I'm glad you came. Even if you won't say it, I know you're not immune to worry.
—Don't project feelings onto me that I don't have —Anubi5 responded, mechanical.
—It's not projection —Lápida said warmly—. It's hope.
Bruno looked at Lápida as if someone had just insulted logic itself.
—Hope? Here? Among us?
—Where better? —she said.
Anubi5 remained still. Ruby clenched her jaw, and Helestia turned her face slightly, like someone trying to see without appearing to look.
Anubi5 said nothing more. But for a second—just one—her gaze dropped to the floor with a subtle shift in the angle of her head. As if she were thinking something…
No one mentioned it. No one needed to. And a subtle silence surrounded them. A momentary calm. But it didn't last.
A dry crack, like bones breaking from laughter, echoed through the air. A new Overlord had arrived.
Xarvaltar. (He came in through the wall)
The shadow of his figure arrived before he did. As if the very concept of threat had decided to attend the event. His entrance was a twist of dark energy, followed by his unusual presence. The dark elf in a torn jacket full of chains and accessories looked like someone who had crossed multiple stages… without bothering to change. Or maybe precisely because there was nothing more interesting to do.
—Well. This is already more entertaining than watching ruins catch fire.
Lápida pursed her lips, though her tone was cordial.
—Xarvaltar… I thought you'd be out destroying some city for sport.
—I did that this morning. Very early. Had time to spare. So what is this? A meeting, or a group date with infernal snacks?
Bruno raised a hand.
—No snacks. But Anubi brought her best face.
—Which one? —joked Xarvaltar—. The "don't talk to me" one or the "I don't care" one?
Anubi5 didn't respond. Ruby locked her eyes on him, cold as ice.
—We're not here for your games.
—Relax, gem. I'm not looking for a fight. Just want to see if anyone still reacts in this statue hall.
—You wanna break something? —asked Ruby, her voice dropping several degrees in temperature.
Bruno turned to them, face lit with grotesque anticipation.
—A fight before Concept arrives? Yes, please! I love watching power structures collapse under ego!
Xarvaltar stepped forward, sharp smile, green and purple heat swirling around him.
—No, no, no. It wouldn't be a fight… it would be entertainment. Isn't that what we all need before judgment?
Ruby stepped forward as well. Helestia didn't interfere, but her gaze hardened.
Xarvaltar took another step, slow but firm.
—So tell me, Ruby… do you still think you're worth anything, even for direct combat?
Ruby didn't answer right away. But her eyes hardened. Not out of pride. Out of something older. Something scarred.
—Enough to make you bleed if you ask again.
Xarvaltar smiled. Not mockery—approval.
—There you are.
A small discharge of energy dropped from his shoulders. One of his chains trembled like it had just woken up.
Ruby didn't step back. But she slightly shifted her torso, adjusting her body's balance. Her right arm lowered slowly, near the ground.
Helestia moved without hesitation. She stepped beside Ruby, needing no words to show her support.
Lápida also advanced, palms raised, a bit startled.
—Oh, please. Don't lower yourselves to this. Let's not burn it all down before we even know why we're here.
Xarvaltar glanced sideways at her.
—You don't know it, Lápida, but this fight is years overdue.
—Then let it wait a few more minutes.
Bruno casually opened a small portal next to him, as if pulling out snacks to enjoy the upcoming show.
—Should we add bets? I've got a stat board saved from last time.
Anubi5 didn't speak. But her eyes had lit up slightly. She was calculating. Every possible move. Every possible reaction.
The room seemed to contract in on itself.
Xarvaltar raised a hand. Ruby did the same.
No one breathed.
And right before the clash… the world went dark.
A dull pulse halted the air. The temperature dropped. Symbols began appearing on the walls. Reality itself seemed to bow to something.
And Concept appeared.
He didn't descend. He didn't emerge. He simply was. As if the world had remembered he was supposed to be there.
His body was wrapped in black bandages. Extra arms protruded from his back and torso, motionless. He had bandaged wings, covered eyes, and a face so serene it didn't seem human. Nor demonic. Just inevitable.
Silence was total. Even Bruno fell quiet.
Concept raised a hand. Not to command. Not to greet. He simply raised it. And it was enough.
—Thank you for coming —he said in a calm, yet absolute voice, directed to each of them almost personally:
Overlord of Envy: Helestia, "The Slime Queen."
Overlord of Greed: Ruby Rouge, "The Gem."
Overlord of Sloth: Bruno, "The Harlequin."
Overlord of Gluttony: Anubi5, "The Usurper."
Overlord of Lust: Lápida, "The Death."
Overlord of Wrath: Xarvaltar, "The Destroyer."
And including himself… Overlord of Pride: Concept, "The Descended One."
Xarvaltar raised an eyebrow.
—Are you going to tell us why this feels like a funeral for the powerful?
Concept lowered his hand. He didn't smile. He didn't move.
—Because the world is about to change… and we won't be able to stop it.
The phrase hung in the air.
It was a warning.
. . - - -