I Was Mistaken for the Reincarnated Evil Overlord-Chapter 97: The Ember Summit’s Judgment

The heat inside the Ember Summit struck like a wall of breath from some ancient god.

Darin stepped through the gate and immediately felt the change, not just temperature, but atmosphere. Magic ran thick here. The stone itself pulsed with residual enchantments. The air carried the tang of sulfur, mana, and old blood. Everything about this place whispered power.

It wasn’t a castle or a fortress.

It was a statement.

The long halls were carved into the black rock of the mountain itself, lined with veins of glowing crimson ore that pulsed faintly in rhythm with the molten rivers below. Intricate carvings told tales of ancient battles—some that even the Overlord in Darin’s head hadn’t recognized.

"I forgot how gaudy these places can be," the Overlord muttered in Darin’s mind. "Carve a few runes into lava rock and suddenly everyone thinks they’re immortal."

Darin ignored him and kept walking, flanked by his chosen entourage: the Sorceress, Alvin, Vincent, Murgan, and of course, the Stranger, who looked like he was having a religious experience with every step.

"Ohhh," he whispered, touching every glowing wall with reverent fingers. "Such beautiful architecture. Such bold use of thermomantic design. The symmetry is divine. My Lord, if you ever ascend to rule, can I be in charge of palace decorations?"

"No," Darin said instantly.

Murgan muttered something about sacrilege and walked faster.

The guards led them through twisting corridors until finally they reached a wide set of double doors etched with red and gold script. The lead guard turned.

"The Summit awaits," he said. "Do not speak unless spoken to. Do not raise weapons. And do not lie. The Circle of Truth has been invoked."

The Sorceress blinked. "They have a functioning Circle of Truth this large?"

Darin swallowed. "That’s going to be a problem."

Vincent leaned over and whispered, "Did you do something recently we should be worried about?"

"No," Darin said, then hesitated. "Well, maybe. I panicked and promised Steve I’d stop letting him eat furniture."

The doors creaked open.

The Council Hall of the Ember Summit was breathtaking.

A massive dome of blackened stone and magical crystal hovered above them, channeling sunlight from some impossibly high peak into a single beam that cut through the center of the chamber. Dozens of raised seats, thrones, and platforms ringed the circular space, each representing a clan, race, or faction.

At least thirty leaders sat within.

Dwarves with gold-threaded beards. Elves with runic robes that sparkled like star charts. Beastkin covered in furs and blood-sigil paint. Scaled dragonkin warriors, some smoking lazily from bone pipes. Even a few veiled wraithfolk, wrapped in silks that seemed to fade in and out of existence.

Darin could feel their eyes on him.

Some curious.

Some hostile.

Most unreadable.

A tall woman with antlered pauldrons and silver tattoos stood and raised a hand.

"State your name, and the purpose of your audience," she said, her voice calm and cool, like still water over jagged ice.

Darin stepped forward, resisting the urge to rub his palms on his pants.

"My name is Darin. I come from Fort Blackthorn by way of the southern capital. I represent a traveling force of over 330, with supply lines and command structure already intact. I bring evidence of attacks across the North, villages destroyed, beastkin tribes scattered, dark forces rising beneath your very feet."

Murmurs rippled through the chamber.

The woman frowned. "We have heard these reports. Rumors, mostly. Bandits. Isolated incidents. Why should we believe you?"

Darin raised his hand.

Dark energy pulsed from his mark.

The Circle of Truth flared as the sigils around the room brightened. A few leaders recoiled. One beastkin growled. Another elf drew a sharp breath.

"Because they were looking for me," Darin said quietly.

The antlered woman sat.

Another voice spoke—a gravelly rumble from a dwarf with eyes like flint.

"You claim to be the Overlord reborn. Yet your hands are calloused like a smith, your aura barely stronger than a beastmaster. You don’t speak like a tyrant."

Darin shrugged. "I don’t want to be the Overlord. I didn’t ask for the title. I’m trying to prevent a war—not start one."

The Circle of Truth didn’t flicker.

The leaders murmured again.

Vincent stepped forward. "With respect, your high magic zones are failing. Your patrols are being slaughtered. The villages we passed through were reduced to ash. We’ve seen the bodies. We’ve burned the monsters."

Alvin tossed a blood-stained raider’s helmet onto the floor. "One of the Oni that led an ambush two weeks ago. He said your Summit was next."

The leaders exchanged looks.

Finally, a tall elf in sky-blue robes stood.

"Even if what you say is true, what would you have us do?" he asked. "Bow to you? Follow a man marked by darkness?"

Darin looked at him, then around the entire room.

And smiled.

"No," he said. "I want your help."

That, of all things, seemed to confuse them.

"I want the North united," Darin said. "I want coordinated scouts, shared resources, a war table that actually functions. I’m not here to rule. I’m here to lead this defense with you. Because if we don’t stand together—whatever’s out there will tear us apart."

The Sorceress stepped forward, eyes glowing faintly.

"He speaks truth," she said. "And if you doubt him, you can doubt me. I’ve fought the creatures rising from the old dungeons. I’ve seen what lies in the depths. You may think the darkness of the past is gone, but I assure you, it remembers you."

Another beat of silence.

And then, like always—

Chaos.

Voices rose. Accusations. Disbelief. Political squabbling. At least three elders shouted over each other. One dragonkin yelled something about "the pride of the spires," and the dwarf leader responded by throwing his mug and calling him a melted goat.

Darin sighed.

"I think that went well," Vincent whispered.

"They’re about to riot," Alvin muttered.

Then—

BOOM.

The explosion shook the summit like a war drum.

The doors slammed open.

A single guard stumbled through, face pale.

"Your Honors—something approaches."

Darin felt it before he heard it.

Dark mana.

Old.

Powerful.

The Overlord’s voice murmured. "That’s familiar…"

Another boom.

Then a howl.

And the chamber shook again.

Darin turned to the leaders.

"I don’t know what’s out there," he said. "But it’s time you stopped arguing and started listening."

He turned to his group.

"We’re going."

The Sorceress was already moving.

Alvin and Vincent followed, weapons drawn.

Murgan shouted something in Gallikarn that made Vincent wince.

The Stranger just laughed softly. "This is it. The fire at the edge of prophecy."

He ran for the doors.

Behind him, the leaders rose, slowly, uncertainly.

And far above, from the cliffside, the blackened sky parted just long enough to show a monstrous silhouette.

It had begun again.