The Overlord’s First Festival

Darin crept through the underbrush, checking over his shoulder.

For once, he just wanted to be alone.

The clearing ahead was perfect—secluded, quiet, and far from the village.

If he was going to test this so-called magic, he needed privacy.

Because if it was real…

That was terrifying.

Darin stepped into the clearing, inhaling the crisp morning air.

He flexed his fingers, recalling the sorceress's instructions.

Focus your mind. Feel the energy. Will it into being.

He closed his eyes.

A faint tingling spread through his fingertips.

Darin's heart quickened.

Was it working?

Was he actually—

CRASH.

Darin's eyes snapped open.

Steve tumbled into the clearing, chasing a butterfly.

Darin groaned loudly.

"Steve, no! Go back to the village!"

Steve ignored him, pouncing at the butterfly—

And missing spectacularly.

The tiny dragon rolled across the grass, then spotted Darin and chirped happily.

Darin glared. "You have the worst timing in the world."

Steve climbed onto his shoulder and immediately started nibbling his ear.

"Ow! Stop that!" Darin swatted at him, but the dragon dodged playfully.

Darin sighed. "Fine. Whatever. I'll try again."

He closed his eyes.

The tingling returned.

He could almost feel the flame forming—

Then—

Steve sneezed.

A tiny puff of smoke enveloped Darin's face.

He coughed violently. "Steve, seriously?!"

The distraction was enough.

The magic slipped from his grasp.

Instead of a flame—

A burst of dark energy shot from his hand—straight into a tree.

Darin froze.

The tree shuddered.

Its leaves withered instantly.

The once-healthy oak turned black and bare, as if all life had been drained from it.

Darin stared in horror.

"…Oh no, no, no," he whispered. "That wasn't supposed to happen."

Panicked, he waved his hands.

"Undo! Undo!"

Nothing.

Instead, the tree began to sprout new growth.

But not leaves.

Strange, glowing fruit appeared, pulsating with eerie light.

Darin's jaw dropped.

"…What the—?!"

Before he could process this, a villager suddenly emerged from the trees.

His eyes went wide.

Darin spun around. "Wait, I can explain—"

The villager pointed at the glowing tree.

"That's... not normal."

Darin hesitated. "Uh—no, it's not. And that's why—"

The villager slowly nodded. "So it's true."

Darin tensed. "What's true?"

The villager stepped back, awe-struck.

"The Overlord bends life and death itself."

Darin slumped in defeat.

"...This is not good."

By the time Darin returned to the village, the news had spread like wildfire.

Villagers crowded the square, whispering excitedly.

The stranger, his most devoted lunatic, stood on a makeshift stage, addressing the crowd.

"We have witnessed a true miracle!"

Darin pushed through the crowd.

"Wait, hold on! That wasn't a miracle, it was a—"

The stranger raised a hand.

"Today, we honor our Overlord's ascension with a grand festival!"

The villagers cheered.

Darin felt his stomach drop.

A festival.

In his honor.

This was the last thing he wanted.

"We shall have a parade!" a villager declared.

"And a feast!" someone added.

"And a sacred ceremony, where we pledge our loyalty to the Overlord!" the stranger exclaimed.

Darin finally reached the front.

"Okay, listen, this is unnecessary. I'm not—"

Greta, sipping her tea, cut in smoothly.

"Oh, dear, don't be modest. The people want to celebrate you."

Darin shot her a look. "Greta, please."

She smiled serenely. "Why would I stop them? It's good for morale."

Darin buried his face in his hands.

"This is a disaster."

Determined to ruin the festival, Darin decided to sabotage it.

Step One: Ruining the Feast

He "accidentally" knocked over a barrel of ale, spilling it everywhere.

"Oops."

But instead of disappointment—

A villager stared at the puddle, wide-eyed.

"He's infused the ale with his energy!"

Another clapped his hands. "Overlord's Ale! A divine brew!"

Darin's eye twitched.

"That's literally just spilled ale."

They bottled it anyway.

Step Two: Sabotaging the Parade

Darin approached the parade planners.

"You know, a quiet, simple parade would be best. No need for fanfare."

A villager stroked his chin. "Ah, yes! A silent march, so that our steps alone speak of his power!"

Darin blinked. "That's not what I—"

Another villager nodded. "We should walk barefoot! To feel the earth's pulse, as the Overlord does."

Darin looked down at his boots. "I—I do not do that."

Too late. They were already taking off their shoes.

Frustrated, exhausted, and completely out of ideas, Darin retreated to the edge of the village.

He just wanted five minutes of peace.

But the sorceress appeared beside him.

"My lord," she said, "it is time for your training."

Darin groaned. "Can't this wait? I'm dealing with a lot."

She shook her head. "The festival is a distraction. You must master your power."

Darin perked up.

An opportunity.

If he failed miserably, maybe the villagers would realize he wasn't the Overlord.

"…Alright," he agreed. "Let's train."

They moved to a quiet field.

The sorceress pointed at a rock.

"Focus. Lift it."

Darin squinted.

He was going to do nothing and let her be disappointed.

Then—

A tingling spread through his hands.

The rock wobbled.

Darin frowned.

The rock lifted off the ground.

Darin's stomach dropped. "Wait. That's not supposed to—"

The tingling intensified.

Then—

The grass lifted.

The dirt beneath his feet lifted.

And then—

Darin himself started floating.

Darin let out an undignified screech.

"AHHH! MAKE IT STOP!"

Steve, who had been napping nearby, woke up, saw Darin hovering, and immediately assumed this was the greatest game ever.

The tiny dragon shot into the air, flapping circles around him.

"NO, STEVE, THIS IS NOT A GAME!"

Steve chirped excitedly, then—because he was a menace—grabbed Darin's sleeve and flapped his wings harder.

Darin spun midair.

"STEVE, LET GO!"

Steve did not let go.

Instead, the dragon's tail smacked Darin in the face.

"STOP HELPING, STEVE!"

The sorceress watched, completely unimpressed.

"You must control it, my lord."

Darin, arms flailing uselessly: "I'M NOT CONTROLLING ANYTHING!"

Steve booped Darin's nose with his snout.

Darin flinched. "WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!"

The sorceress sighed.

She flicked a hand—

And the magic vanished.

Darin dropped like a sack of potatoes.

THUD.

For a few long seconds, he didn't move.

Then, muffled against the grass, he groaned, "…Magic is overrated."

Before he could process what just happened—

A rustling noise came from the trees.

Darin's head snapped up.

A villager stood at the edge of the clearing.

His mouth was hanging open.

His wide, terrified eyes locked onto Darin.

For a second, no one spoke.

Then the villager turned and bolted toward the village.

"THE OVERLORD HAS TAKEN TO THE SKIES! HE COMMANDS THE WIND!"

Darin's soul left his body.

"WAIT, NO, DON'T SAY IT LIKE THAT—"

Too late.

The villager was already gone.

A heavy, horrible silence followed.

"This day just keeps getting worse."