I Was Mistaken for the Reincarnated Evil Overlord-Chapter 77: A Warm Morning and Dumber Memories

The stars were still out when the Stranger returned.

This content is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

He knelt first.

Then the Sect Master.

Then the five Elders followed, all dressed in elaborate robes, expressions serene as if they hadn't just marched through a battlefield of acid and shattered chitin.

Darin, wrapped in a blanket, groggily rubbing his temples from a mana-core hangover, barely registered the line of high-ranking zealots bowing in the moonlight.

The Stranger spoke first, as ever, voice thick with theatrical awe.

"Congratulations, my Lord… You're almost returning to your prime."

Darin blinked at him.

The Overlord in his head let out a smug chuckle.

"Why, thank you, even though it's not me. But points for accuracy."

Darin didn't even flinch. He just sighed, raising one finger, shaking it slowly.

"No. No speeches. No titles. I'm tired, my bones feel like soup, and my brain feels like I did cartwheels on a lightning rod."

The Stranger bowed even deeper, head to the ground.

"Of course, my Lord. Forgive our presumption."

"I forgive everything if it means you all go to sleep right now."

The Sect Master, still kneeling with that frustratingly serene expression, nodded. "As you will it."

"And take your drama with you."

One of the Elders quietly wiped a tear, whispering, "Even in exhaustion, his mercy flows…"

Darin threw the blanket over his face.

"I SAID GO TO SLEEP."

As if struck by divine command, they all stood and silently dispersed into the night.

Darin groaned, rolled to the side, and opened one arm.

Steve, sensing the moment, flopped into the space without hesitation.

Grumble silently blinked into existence on Darin's other side, curling into his usual heap of shadow, tail flicking once before going still.

Wrapped in warmth, exhaustion, and two living furnaces, Darin let his eyes finally close.

And,

He slept.

*****

Morning came with the smell of fire-kissed meat.

Darin's nose twitched.

He cracked one eye open and stared directly into the slow, graceful movement of someone flipping what looked like seasoned vegetables and sliced roast meat over a wide, flat skillet.

The Sorceress sat beside the fire, hair still damp from early morning mist, her cloak folded neatly beside her.

Darin blinked again.

"Am I dead?"

"No," she said without turning. "You're just not used to someone cooking for you."

He sat up slowly, groaning as his back popped like an old floorboard. "Mmm. That's a shame. Because this smells like heaven."

She spared him a glance, then went back to tending the food.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "When you first collapsed, we thought we'd have to carry you in a wheelbarrow."

"I'm better," she said, voice low. "Tired. But better."

"Good."

A silence passed, warm and strangely comfortable.

The fire crackled. Grumble snored softly at Darin's feet. Steve was chewing on a log and drooling in his sleep.

Darin stretched, then looked at her again, smiling faintly.

"You know… this kind of reminds me of back in the village."

The Sorceress glanced sideways. "When I almost incinerated you?"

"Exactly that."

He grinned and laid back on his elbows, gazing up at the brightening sky.

"I was having that incredibly fake 'overlord death' with that knight, Ronald. He kept yelling about honor and destiny, and I was just trying not to get stabbed. Every time I tripped, the villagers would gasp like it was part of some master plan."

"You ducked behind a boulder."

"They were good cover!" Darin chuckled. "But then—you showed up."

She rolled her eyes. "Still angry about the fireball?"

"I dodged the fireball, thank you very much. Very heroically. By hiding behind a large boulder."

"You screamed."

"War cry."

"You squealed."

"Strategic squeal!"

The Sorceress huffed a laugh, shaking her head.

Darin smiled. "And then you were all like, 'Do you remember me, tyrant? Do you remember the lives you burned?' Super intense. Real dramatic. I thought I was going to die."

"I meant it."

"I know," he said, quieter. "But instead of dying, I hit you with my best acting. Told everyone if I was the great evil Overlord, why was I weak? Why was I struggling?"

He chuckled again, voice softer now.

"Then I tripped over my own feet, knocked over a torch, set a hay bale on fire, and ran off. I still don't know how that passed as a 'grand escape.'"

"You vanished into the smoke. Everyone thought you planned it."

Darin smirked. "Next morning, I wake up… and you're in my house. Cooking. I remember staring at you like, 'Is she going to murder me over eggs?'"

The Sorceress didn't say anything for a moment.

Then: "I just… wanted to talk."

He looked at her, eyes searching.

And this time, she didn't look away.

But of course—

The door of the nearby supply cart flew open with a slam.

"STEVE!"

Alvin's voice exploded into the quiet morning.

A beat of silence.

Then a golden blur darted out of the shadows—Steve, tail tucked, carrying a giant steak nearly the size of his body.

"GET BACK HERE WITH MY BREAKFAST!"

Steve zigzagged past the fire like a startled squirrel, leapt over a barrel, then vanished behind a stack of crates.

Alvin charged after him, half-armored and fuming.

"YOU LITTLE FLUFFY DEMON—!"

Darin and the Sorceress just… stared.

Then both burst out laughing.

It was deep, unguarded laughter. The kind that bubbled up from a place exhaustion couldn't reach.

And for a moment, everything felt simple again.

But only for a moment.

BOOOOOOM.

The sound of a distant horn shattered the quiet.

Darin and the Sorceress sat up instantly.

From the edge of the hills, down the well-worn road leading toward Fort Blackthorn, a line of banners crested the ridge.

Cavalry.

Wagons.

Dozens of pack animals.

Flags bearing the mark of House Jade fluttered in the rising wind.

The caravans had arrived.

The reinforcements from the duchy.

Camp assistants, fresh soldiers, transport, supply officers—

Their ride to Fort Blackthorn.

Darin stood slowly, eyes narrowed.

The Sorceress rose beside him.

Behind them, the camp stirred with movement. Vincent emerged, chewing on a replacement steak. Alvin returned, dragging Steve by the tail while muttering curses under his breath. Cultists gathered. Mercenaries paused. The scout with the fedora climbed onto a crate, squinting into the horizon.

And Darin—

He exhaled slowly.

Another chapter of chaos closed.

But surely there wont be a new one?