The Overlord of Teyvat: Genshin Impact x Overlord crossover

Part 24

One hour had passed since Aether had taken Paimon to bed, leaving Momon alone with his thoughts. The silence was heavy, but Momon welcomed it, letting his mind wander as he stared into the dancing flames.

"Man..." he muttered under his breath, his voice a low growl that barely reached his own ears. "I probably shouldn't have been so open with him about the past. Eighty percent of what I told him was a lie."

A dry chuckle escaped him, though it lacked humor. Momon wasn't what he claimed to be—a millennia-old undead overlord, forged in the crucible of endless strife and darkness. The truth was far more mundane, even pathetic by his own admission.

He was a YGGDRASIL player—a salaryman from a dystopian Japan in the year 2138. The memories of his old life flashed briefly in his mind: the oppressive gray skies of a world dominated by megacorporations, the suffocating routine of his daily grind, and the fleeting moments of joy he'd found in the virtual paradise of YGGDRASIL.

For twelve years, that game had been his escape, his solace. In its vibrant and limitless world, he had forged bonds with companions who felt like family, carving out a life as Momon, his powerful and mysterious avatar. And now, fate had given him the ultimate gift.

"Living in Teyvat... as my avatar..." he murmured, his voice tinged with wonder. "It's like the world itself decided to reward me. I'm no longer bound by that hollow existence. Here... I'm someone extraordinary."

He clenched a gloved hand into a fist, watching the light from the fire reflect off the polished surface of his gauntlet. His human life, his past as a lonely salaryman—it felt like a distant memory, one he was determined to bury forever. He wasn't that man anymore. He was Momon, the Overlord of YGGDRASIL, a figure whose lore and legend were entirely his to shape.

"So, when Aether eventually asks for the 'truth'—and he will, out of that unyielding curiosity of his—'" he said softly, his tone growing colder, "I'll give him the truth I've chosen. I'll tell him about YGGDRASIL, about Helheim, and the endless wars of that world. That's who I am now. That's all that matters."

Yet, despite his resolve, a pang of unease stirred within him. He sighed, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.

"Still... it feels so lame to lie," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "But at least about my undead self and YGGDRASIL... that part's actually true."

His mask tilted upward, his gaze lingering on the darkened ceiling. The faint sound of the wind brushing against the house broke the silence for a moment.

"It doesn't matter," he said after a pause, his voice firm once more. "The past is dead, just like the man I used to be. This world is mine now, and I'll make my story here, in Teyvat."

The soft crackling of the fire filled the otherwise silent room as Momon stood lost in his thoughts. The weight of his fabricated truths and carefully constructed persona lingered in his mind like a shadow. But his reverie was suddenly interrupted.

Faint sounds and distant voices reached his ears, carried on the still night air. To most, it would have been little more than an indistinct murmur, but to Momon's heightened undead senses, it was clear as day. His crimson eyes—hidden beneath his mask—narrowed. There were intruders near Konda Village.

The faint chatter carried a tone of caution and purpose, unmistakable signs of people who weren't wandering aimlessly. These were not villagers. "Mysterious individuals," he muttered to himself. "Approaching under the cover of darkness... how predictable."

Without hesitation, Momon turned away from the hearth. With a wave of his hand, the fire extinguished instantly, plunging the room into darkness. For anyone else, the abrupt loss of light would have been disorienting, but for Momon, his vision remained as sharp as daylight. The dark was his ally, not his enemy.