I Was Mistaken for the Reincarnated Evil Overlord Chapter 55 55: The Journey Begins

Darin tightened the straps of his bag, exhaling slowly. It was ti.

He turned to the Stranger, who stood at attention like a devout follower awaiting divine orders. The man's unwavering gaze, half-mad with belief, never left Darin.

"Is everyone ready?" Darin asked.

The Stranger bowed deeply. "But of course, my Lord. Every soul in your service stands prepared. Your grand design unfolds as it should."

Darin sighed. "Right. Just… don't cause trouble on the way."

The Stranger hesitated for a second, as if weighing the request. Then, with complete solemnity, he responded, "Understood. We shall cause only the most necessary trouble."

Darin gave him a deadpan look.

"...No trouble."

The Stranger hesitated longer this ti. Then, ever so softly, "Understood."

Darin let out a slow breath and stepped outside, only to stop short.

A sea of people stretched before him. Thousands. So were simple townsfolk carrying bundles of supplies. Others stood ard and armored, ready for war. Among them, Darin spotted retired soldiers, their old scars visible but their spirits unbroken.

His grip tightened. He hadn't expected this many.

But no matter how overwhelming it was, he had to control the situation. He had to act like he was in control.

Behind him, reactions varied.

Vincent let out a low whistle, rocking back on his heels. "You sure you're not a cult leader? Because this is starting to feel pretty cult-y."

The sorceress stood silent at Darin's side, her expression unreadable. She had once ended an Overlord's reign with a single strike. Yet here she stood again, watching as thousands followed another man who unknowingly walked an unknown path.

Greta, however, simply chuckled. "Well, boy. Looks like you've made an impression."

And then there was the voice.

The Overlord, still lurking in the recesses of Darin's mind, laughed darkly. "Hah! This brings back mories. Look at them. Eager. Willing. And you barely had to ask."

Darin ignored him.

Before he could address the crowd, Greta stepped forward.

"Darin." Her voice was softer than usual. "It's ti for to head back."

Darin frowned. "You're not coming?"

Greta smiled faintly. "Boy, I'm too old for the North. The weather changes on a whim, and my bones ain't built for that anymore."

Darin was silent, he knew she was the cause of most of his problem, but it almost felt like he was going to miss her.

She sighed, placing a firm hand on his arm. "You've got your path, and I've got mine. I've done all I can for you. The rest? That's up to you."

A pause.

Then, quieter: "Make it count."

Darin exhaled slowly, nodding. "...I understand."

Greta nodded back. "Good."

Before more could be said, a familiar voice rang out.

"Leaving without saying goodbye? That's cold, Darin."

Darin turned to see the King, flanked by two small creatures.

Steve, the dragon, can't be called tiny anymore because he is now in the size of an adult wolf, was chewing lazily on an expensive-looking sash, probably stolen from the royal treasury. Grumble, the shadowy feline, lounged over the King's shoulder, flicking his tail smugly.

The King smirked. "I believe these belong to you?"

Darin sighed, rubbing his temples. "Of course they do."

He scooped up both creatures and placed them into the carriage. Steve let out a content chirp. Grumble yawned.

The King watched, amused. "Well, then. Off you go, Darin. Try not to cause too much chaos."

Darin turned to the gathered masses.

"Move out!"

anwhile…

As Darin's forces faded into the horizon, silence blanketed the royal court. Not a single quill scratched against parchnt. Not a single word was whispered. Even the scribes, who were normally too busy docunting everything, including each other's lunch choices, had stopped writing, their eyes glued to the departing procession.

Then, all at once—

"HE'S DONE IT AGAIN!" one scribe burst out, his voice trembling with barely-contained excitent. "HE HAS LEFT ON A GRAND QUEST!"

The others erupted into frantic motion.

"THIS CHANGES EVERYTHING!"

"QUICK, RECORD THE DATE! THIS SHALL BE KNOWN AS—uh—THE SECOND GREAT EXODUS OF LORD DARIN!"

"Wait, wait, did we ever na the first exodus?"

"I DON'T KNOW, JUST WRITE EVERYTHING DOWN!"

Quills scratched furiously against parchnt as the scribes scrambled to preserve this historic mont. So were already sketching Darin's departing figure, giving him unnecessarily dramatic poses, a billowing cape, and in one case, glowing eyes that shot beams of divine judgnt.

anwhile, the commoners, servants, and even a few nobles watched in awe, not at Darin, but at the small, shadowy creature perched in his carriage.

The Grand Shadow Beast of the Court, Grumble, was leaving.

A collective murmur ran through the gathered crowd. Then, as one, they bowed.

"The Grand Shadow Beast is departing…" whispered a noblewoman, eyes filled with reverence.

"The court shall never be the sa," a chef murmured, his lip trembling. "Who will I bla now when my soufflé collapses?"

Even the castle guards, hardened warriors who had fought in countless battles, subtly inclined their heads in respect.

And in the kitchens, a young servant clutched a rolling pin to her chest, whispering, "Grumble...I shall never forget the ti you stole an entire roast duck from the banquet table…Truly, a master of the shadows."

The nobles, overwheld by emotion, began murmuring to each other in urgent tones.

"Do we… Do we hold a vigil?"

"Should we commission a statue?"

"A tapestry," one declared dramatically. "Of Lord Darin and his loyal Shadow Beast! It shall hang in the great hall for all to see!"

A mont of awed silence passed before one of the scribes, voice trembling with epiphany, gasped, "THE PROPHECY—IT CONTINUES!"

Sowhere, Duke Varian watched from his secluded balcony, rubbing his temples.

"This kingdom is dood," he muttered.

At the City Gates…

Greta remained still as the last of Darin's people vanished into the distance. She had expected a big sendoff for the boy. What she hadn't expected was the entire court treating Grumble's departure as a national tragedy.

She shook her head.

"Fools."

A man approached, his voice low and urgent. "Elder, we captured the mother dragon."

Greta's lips curled into a slow, eerie smile.

"I'll speak so sense into her," she murmured. "She should have known that her child steve is in good hands."

The air shifted. For just a mont, her aura flared, a whisper of sothing old and terrifying.

The man stiffened, barely suppressing a shudder.

Up in the castle, the King, who had just barely recovered from the absurdity of the last ten minutes, glanced toward her, sensing the change in the air.

Greta t his gaze, holding it for a long mont.

Then, with a slight, knowing smile, she bowed deeply before turning and walking away.

The King sighed. "...Why does her aura feels familiar?"