The Year of Our Lord 1001
The Eastern Woods, Mystic Falls
The night Henrik Mikaelson died, the world changed forever.
He was only nine years old—small for his age, with his mother's dark hair and his father's curious eyes. He had begged to follow his older brothers into the forest. Klaus had said no. Elijah had said no. Even Finn, who rarely took interest in the younger children's affairs, had told him to stay home.
But Henrik had always been stubborn.
He crept out of the cottage after midnight, following the faint trail of his brothers' footprints through the dew-wet grass. The moon hung fat and white above the treeline—not yet full, but close enough. Close enough that the wolves would feel its pull.
Close enough that Henrik would never come home.
---
In the Great Tomb of Nazarick, a being of immense power felt the fabric of reality tear.
Ainz Ooal Gown—once a salaryman named Satoru Suzuki, now an overlord of death—stood in the center of the Throne Room as the connection to YGGDRASIL severed for the final time. The banners of his forty guildmates hung motionless on the walls. The NPCs had gained sentience. The game had become real.
And now, reality was tearing itself apart again.
"Ainz-sama!" Albedo's voice cut through his concentration. The beautiful succubus rushed toward him, her white dress trailing behind her. "Something is happening to the Throne Room! The walls are—"
She never finished the sentence.
A vortex of light swallowed them both.
---
When Ainz opened his eyes, he was no longer in Nazarick.
He stood in a forest unlike any he had seen in YGGDRASIL. The trees were tall but ordinary—oaks and maples, not the twisted, magical forests of the game. The air smelled of earth and leaf mold and something else. Something alive.
And before him, crumpled on the ground, lay Albedo.
He knelt beside her, his skeletal fingers reaching for her pulse before he remembered that she was a construct, an NPC, not truly alive in the way humans understood it. But she stirred at his touch, her golden eyes fluttering open.
"Ainz-sama... where are we?"
"I do not know." He rose, surveying their surroundings. The connection to Nazarick was faint but present—he could feel his children, his guardians, waiting somewhere beyond the veil of this strange reality. "But we are no longer in the world we knew."
He raised his hand and cast Locate Object, seeking information. The spell pulsed outward, and he felt the responses ripple back. Human settlements to the west. A larger concentration of life—and something else, something that tingled with magical potential—to the south. And to the north, fast movement. Predatory movement.
Ainz turned his skull toward the north and waited.
---
The boy stumbled out of the trees not twenty feet from where Ainz stood.
He was young—perhaps seven or eight—with dark hair and a face streaked with tears. His clothes were simple wool, the kind worn by peasants in medieval Europe. He was bleeding from a cut on his forehead, and his eyes were wide with terror.
Those eyes fell upon Ainz, and the boy screamed.
"Please! Please don't hurt me!" The language was unfamiliar, but Ainz's Comprehend Languages spell translated it instantly. "I'm looking for my brothers! I didn't mean to—I just wanted to—"
"Hush." Ainz raised a skeletal hand, and the boy fell silent, frozen in place. "I will not harm you. What is your name?"
The boy's lower lip trembled. "H-Henrik. Henrik Mikaelson."
Ainz studied him. The child carried traces of magic in his blood—not strong, but present. And something else. A connection to the wild, to the moon, to—
The howl split the night.
Henrik's face went white. "The wolves. The wolves are coming. Please—you have to help me—"
Ainz considered his options. He knew nothing of this world. He had no allies, no information, no secure position. The logical choice was to retreat, to observe from a distance, to gather intelligence before revealing himself.
But the child was trembling, and somewhere in the depths of Ainz's undead heart, a memory stirred. A memory of loneliness. A memory of fear.
He stepped forward and placed himself between Henrik and the forest.
"Stay behind me."
---
The wolves came fast—faster than any natural beast had a right to move. Ainz counted six of them, massive creatures with fur that seemed to ripple and shift in the moonlight. Their eyes burned yellow, and their jaws dripped with saliva.
Werewolves.
In YGGDRASIL, werewolves were a playable race—lycanthropes who could shift between forms. But these creatures were different. They moved with a desperation, a hunger, that spoke of something primal and uncontrolled.
The largest wolf—the alpha—paused at the edge of the clearing. Its yellow eyes fixed on Ainz, and for a moment, something like confusion flickered in them.
Then Ainz raised his hand and cast Despair Aura V.
The effect was instantaneous. The wolves froze, their bodies trembling, their predatory instincts screaming at them to flee. The alpha whimpered—an actual whimper—and backed away, tail tucked between its legs.
"You will leave this place," Ainz said, his voice carrying the weight of absolute authority. "You will not return. And if I learn that you have harmed another child in these woods, I will hunt you to extinction. Do you understand?"
The wolves understood. They fled into the darkness, and the forest fell silent.
Henrik stared up at Ainz with wide eyes. "You... you made them go away. How did you make them go away?"
Ainz looked down at the boy—this small, brave, foolish child who had followed his brothers into danger. "I am a sorcerer. It is what I do."
"You saved me." Henrik's voice was filled with wonder. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I have to find my brothers—they came out here too, and if the wolves find them—"
"They will not." Ainz placed a hand on Henrik's shoulder—carefully, gently, aware of how terrifying his skeletal form must appear. "I will help you find them. But first, you must tell me everything about this world. About the wolves. About your family. About the magic I sense in your blood."
Henrik nodded eagerly. "I'll tell you anything. Just—please—help me find my brothers."
Ainz inclined his head. "Lead the way."