"Walton! You really didn't break your promise!" Flying Squirrel abruptly sprang from the throne, casually tossing the Guild Weapon to the side, and in two or three strides, he ran to Walton, placing his terrifying bony hands on Walton's shoulders!
Uh... Walton was currently floating, nearly two heads taller than Flying Squirrel, so it looked like Flying Squirrel was begging his dad for a hug...
"...I have to say, no matter how many times I see this form of yours, it's quite frightening," Flying Squirrel felt a bit awkward, took two steps back, and cleared his throat to ease the atmosphere.
Flying Squirrel wasn't wrong. Walton's true form was like a skeletal "humanoid butterfly," exuding an aura of decay and witheredness from head to toe. Skin and bones was the best description, and his four limbs had become "eight limbs"—he had no feet, replaced by withered conical lines, two pairs of skeletal hands, and two pairs of wings resembling decaying giant dragons. His head was a skull seemingly steeped in starlight, emanating a mysterious and suffocating feeling, coupled with the constant crackling blue lightning around his body. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say he was a major BOSS from some dungeon.
Walton First Form Concept Art
"Cough, I just logged on and didn't have time to change my appearance," Walton waved his hand somewhat awkwardly, trying to use a gentle tone, but it still came out as a whisper from the void, making Old Bone feel a pang of discomfort.
Snap, Walton's withered right hand snapped his fingers, and his form slowly began to glow, as brilliant and prolonged as observing a galaxy explosion from the end of the universe.
However, this prolonged process was accelerated, taking only three seconds for Walton to stand firmly on the ground.
Flying Squirrel looked up to see Walton had transformed into a humanoid creature wearing leather armor, a black eye patch, and slowly flapping a pair of wings. Flying Squirrel remembered Walton called this form the "Demon Hunter."
"Second form... I remember you have a total of three forms. Is this the special reward you received for rebuilding Ainz Ooal Gown back then?" Flying Squirrel's flaming skeletal eyes flickered on and off, as if reminiscing about the good old days.
But this remark made Walton feel guilty.
"I'm sorry, Flying Squirrel, it was my responsibility when the Guild Weapon was destroyed... Touch Me and the others also..."
"Alright, Walton," Flying Squirrel stepped forward. This time, he finally rested his arm firmly on Walton's shoulder, "Let bygones be bygones. Didn't you all reconcile under my witness as Guildmaster? Think about how you spent an unimaginable amount of money for your so-called 'atonement,' and you were still willing to stay with this Guild and with me until the very end. That's more than enough."
Flying Squirrel spoke eloquently, at one moment "recalling the glorious past" and at another "caring for empty-nest elderly," which made Walton, who had intended to apologize again, swallow his words.
"By the way, hasn't the server shutdown countdown already ended? Why are we still online? Oh, right, Walton, are you working tomorrow? If not, how about we go for a drink later? Of course, I'll pay my share; I can't always let you treat. I never really thanked you for saving my life back then..."
Flying Squirrel seemed to have opened a floodgate. The earlier emotions of waiting for the end alone, without companions, vanished. He pulled Walton, suggesting this and that, and what he said made Walton feel guilty—as a high-level company executive, he had constantly contacted the empty-nest Flying Squirrel, which led to him being targeted by the company, almost losing his life. Although Walton eventually saved Flying Squirrel, Flying Squirrel stubbornly believed Walton had saved his life, but the truth was, *I* caused it! Old Bone, Old Bone, you'll be kidnapped with a lollipop like this!
"Just a moment..." Walton raised his hand, interrupting Flying Squirrel's endless chatter, "Albedo."
"Yes, Lord Walton, please give your command."
Albedo, who had been stiff and motionless like a puppet, suddenly turned around and knelt before the two, her tone and expression so lifelike that they completely transcended the realm of an NPC. This startled Flying Squirrel, making him exclaim "Eh!"
"Gather Shalltear, Cocytus, Xiao Di... Demiurge, at the Arena on the Sixth Floor. Flying Squirrel has an announcement to make. Sebas, you too. The Pleiades should return to their rooms to rest for now."
"Yes!" x2
The NPCs respectfully knelt on one knee to receive their orders, and with unhurried, almost reverent steps, they successively exited the Throne Room.
"Ah, ah, ah, ah! What's going on?! Walton!" A few minutes after the NPCs left, the passively stiff Flying Squirrel suddenly grabbed Walton's arms and cried out anxiously. But before he could finish speaking, a green light rose, forcing him to calm down.
Hmm, forced calmness, such a useful skill, but alas, Flying Squirrel...
Walton did not voice his internal monologue. Instead, he turned to Flying Squirrel and slowly explained.
"We have transmigrated. Now we need to ascertain information about this world and the loyalty of the Floor Guardians. This requires you, as the Guildmaster, to handle it. It's not appropriate for me to interfere, so I can only help you by sending them away first."
"Eh?" Flying Squirrel looked bewildered.
"In any case, this is a fact. Since no one is here now, you can try to see the difference between a true Undead Archmage and one in the game... Oh, right, you'll need to protect me later. You know, I'm actually..."
"You, a Level 110 player killer with a unique race, class, and sub-class in the entire game, still need me, a Level 100 lonely Old Bone, to protect... Uh..." Flying Squirrel was interrupted again, forced into calmness.
"20 levels of mine are sub-classes that can't be used in combat and offer very few attribute bonuses. My actual stats don't exceed Level 95..." Walton smiled bitterly, shaking his head, and in turn, placed his hand on Flying Squirrel's shoulder.
"This is a matter of life and death, because we have transmigrated, and we can't be sure if we can revive. Even if we can revive, if the Floor Guardians betray us, we'll be spawn-camped!"
Spawn-camping, a special term in games, means guarding a player's resurrection point and continuously killing them. Players who have just revived have a period of weakness and incomplete status. Once spawn-camped by someone with malicious intent, they can basically only call for reinforcements or rage ineffectively. Yes, Walton particularly enjoyed spawn-camping. His favorite thing was to spawn-camp himself and let the other Guild members fight the players who came to rescue one after another.
"Malicious intent" refers to me, the great villain Walton.
"Then what are you going to do?" Realizing the gravity of the situation, Old Bone quickly summoned the Guild Weapon and held it protectively to his chest. This scepter, as the symbol of the Guild, was not only powerful but also represented the authority that "its destruction means the dissolution of the Guild," and absolutely could not fall into the hands of others.
"I will take my first form and stand by to make a show," Walton nodded in a very serious manner.
"...Can't you help me?! Walton! I never realized you were such an unreliable person! Uh..." Damn this forced calmness! Old Bone cursed inwardly.
"Flying Squirrel, you are the Guildmaster! This is your right and responsibility!" Walton retorted, not giving an inch.
"You'll regret this, Walton!"