The forest around Ethan whispered with the secrets of Middle-Earth. Tall trees with gnarled trunks cast long shadows across the path he walked, his heavy armor clinking with each step. Behind him trailed his horde of fifteen Brown Minions, their scrawny forms darting between bushes, their shrill voices echoing through the branches. The minions were noisy, swinging their makeshift clubs and knives, occasionally tripping over their own feet, which brought a faint smile to Ethan's lips. They were exactly as he remembered from Overlord—chaotic, but fiercely loyal.
Ethan felt strange striding through this alien world. Just hours ago, he was an ordinary guy, and now? A dark lord in Middle-Earth, axe in hand, helmet making him look like a figure from nightmares. He wanted to test his new powers, to see what his little minions were truly capable of. He stopped at the edge of a clearing, raising a gauntleted hand.
"Minions!" he called, his voice booming through the helmet like thunder. "As soon as you see any animals, attack. I want to see you in action."
"Yes, Master! Kill! Bleed!" the minions screeched, their eyes blazing with wild enthusiasm. They scattered into the forest, searching the underbrush with fanatical zeal. One, slightly larger, wielding a rusty cleaver-like knife, gave a theatrical salute before joining the others.
Ethan crossed his arms, watching them with amusement. They were like hyperactive children on steroids—clumsy, but ready for anything. The forest around them hummed with life: birds sang in the treetops, the wind rustled, and distant leaves stirred. Ethan sensed that Middle-earth was full of dangers, but also opportunities. If he was to survive here, he needed to know what his army could do.
They didn't have to wait long. After a few minutes of marching, they reached a small clearing where a herd of small animals grazed. They looked like miniature deer, with short antlers and fluffy fur. The minions needed no prompting—with a cry of "Kill! Kill!" they charged their prey. The horde of fifteen was a wave of chaos. They leapt onto the animals, slashing with knives, bludgeoning with clubs, and one even tried to bite its target. The clearing became a whirlwind of blood, fur, and high-pitched shrieks.
Ethan stood to the side, leaning against a tree, axe in hand. The fight was swift and brutal. The animals stood no chance—despite their clumsiness, the minions were ruthlessly effective. Within moments, the clearing was littered with bodies, and the minions began hopping triumphantly, waving their spoils. One proudly held up a severed antler like it was a treasure.
"Not bad," Ethan muttered, nodding approvingly. They were just as he remembered from the game: crazy, but deadly. A thrill ran through him at the thought of what he could achieve with such an army.
Suddenly, a loud roar shattered the calm. From the bushes at the clearing's edge burst a larger creature—a massive boar with saber-like tusks and fur as tough as chainmail. Its eyes burned with fury, and the ground shook under its hooves. Ethan stiffened as he realized the beast wasn't charging at the minions—it was coming straight for him.
"Damn it!" he cursed, raising his axe. The boar was nearly upon him, its tusks gleaming in the sunlight. There was no time to think. As the beast closed in, Ethan swung with all his might. The axe's blade flashed through the air, cleaving the boar's head with a thunderous crack. Blood sprayed across the grass, and the heavy body collapsed in two halves at his feet.
The minions froze, staring at their master with wide mouths. Then they erupted into cheers:
"Master mighty! Master kills!" they chanted, hopping and waving their arms. One tried to climb the boar's corpse but fell with a thud, sparking laughter from the others.
Ethan lowered his axe, his blood still pumping with adrenaline. This feeling—power, control—was new, intoxicating. He looked at his minions and said:
"Good work. Take the animals' bodies and start a fire. Prepare me a meal."
The minions leapt into action with enthusiasm, though their chaotic nature soon showed. They bickered over who carried the bigger pieces of meat, one accidentally stepped into the fire, singeing its foot, and another tried to "season" the meat with a handful of dirt. Eventually, they got a fire going, and the smell of roasting meat filled the clearing.
Ethan sat on a nearby rock, removing his helmet and setting it aside. He watched his minions with a faint smile. They were clumsy, but they tried for him, which stirred an odd sense of pride. As the flames crackled and the minions clumsily roasted meat on sticks, a familiar glowing panel appeared before his eyes:
Congratulations on your first kill!
Reward: Ring of Storage
Description: This ring allows you to store and summon items in an invisible space. Capacity: 100 slots.
Ethan blinked, startled. The system had spoken again. He held out his hand, and a ring materialized—black, with a red gem pulsing faintly. Without hesitation, he slipped it onto his finger, feeling its magic connect with his own energy. He grinned broadly. This could change everything—the ability to store loot without carrying it was invaluable.
The minions handed him chunks of roasted meat. It was unevenly cooked, half-burnt in places, but it tasted decent. Ethan ate slowly, watching his little minions squabble over scraps. Sitting by the fire, he began to think about his situation. He was in Middle-earth, with the power of an Overlord and an army of minions. But he knew this world was full of dangers—humans, elves, orcs, maybe even Nazgûl. How would he present himself when he met them?
"Ethan" felt too... ordinary. That name belonged to his old life, to a gamer who spent nights in front of a screen. Here, he was more—a lord who inspired fear. He needed a new name, one that reflected his new identity. He stared into the flames, then at the minions, who were smearing meat on their faces as they ate.
"Master? What do we do now?" asked the larger minion with the cleaver.
Ethan stood, donning his helmet. A decision crystallized in his mind. Not "Ethan." Something stronger, darker.
"From now on, I am Mordred," he said slowly, savoring the sound of it. "Mordred, Lord of Shadows."
The minions howled in approval, jumping and shouting his new name. Ethan, now Mordred, looked into the depths of the forest. Middle-Earth awaited, and he was ready to make his mark. But what lay beyond the next turn? That, he didn't yet know.