I Was Mistaken for the Reincarnated Evil Overlord

The sky cracked with thunder as Grull charged forward, steam rising from his breath, each step a drumbeat against the frozen stone. Behind him, the snow churned with the momentum of Darin's army, two hundred battle-worn soldiers, one hundred thirty Gallikarns, and the weight of a war no one had asked for.

The ruined town ahead flickered in the smoke and firelight. Screams echoed from the square beyond the shattered outer wall, mingled with the shrill battle cries of orcs, goblins, and something more guttural, wendigos.

Darin sat mounted, one hand gripping the reins, the other clenched tight around his warhammer's haft.

"Now," the Overlord murmured in his mind, calm but cold. "Now you break something."

"Grull!" Darin roared. "Go!"

With a booming war cry, the Cyclops lunged toward the captured gate, a massive slab of iron and charred timber that had once protected the town's inner sanctum. Now it stood half-collapsed, seized by the raiders, reinforced with crude spikes and barricades. On its walls, orc archers readied bows, goblins chattered excitedly, and one wendigo crouched like a vulture, head twisting toward the sound of thunderous footfalls.

Then it saw Grull.

And the world stopped.

Boom!

Grull's shoulder slammed into the gate like a siege battering ram given sentience. The air shattered with the impact. Timber exploded. Steel crumpled like paper. The entire barricade heaved, and collapsed inward with a groan of failing bolts.

The defenders barely had time to scream.

Then fire erupted behind him.

The Sorceress unleashed a column of burning wind, catching the shocked wendigo mid-lunge. Its shriek pierced the sky before it vanished in flame, ash, and a gust of black feathers.

"GO!" Darin screamed.

From both flanks, Alvin and Vincent struck like fangs.

Vincent's wedge, spearmen and elite Gallikarn archers—surged into the eastern alleyways, blades flashing, arrows hissing. Goblin archers screamed as rooftops lit up with return fire. One exploded in a burst of dark smoke from a cursed arrow loosed by a masked witch behind him.

On the west, Alvin carved a path straight through a squad of armored hobgoblins, moving with a silent, grim precision. His unit followed behind him in a wave of steel and discipline, cutting through raiders with terrifying efficiency.

And in the center, Darin led the charge.

Steve bolted ahead first, wings tucked tight, barreling into a trio of orcs and sending them flying like dice. Grumble launched off Reeka's shoulder and landed on a goblin lieutenant, biting straight through its helmet and vanishing into the smoke like a living shadow.

Darin's warhammer swung wide, catching a berserker mid-charge and launching him through a vendor's stall. He didn't stop. Through fire. Through snow. Through shattered barricades and panicking raiders—Darin pushed forward with his elite strike group behind him.

The defenders inside the square had seen the collapse.

Now they surged.

Hundreds of Gallikarns and civilians, swords dull and armor cracked, erupted from behind their makeshift defenses, screaming in desperation and disbelief. The enemy forces had just begun to react when the tide turned.

It was beautiful chaos.

Then Darin heard a voice—a familiar voice, above the din.

"RANKS! FORM ON ME! LEFT FLANK PIVOT! ARCHERS, BIND TO THE ROOFLINE—AND SOMEONE FETCH ME A HORNED SKULL FOR MORAL SUPPORT!"

Darin skidded to a halt, ducking behind a fallen beam as a fireball roared overhead.

"…No way," he muttered.

He turned toward the source of the command—standing on top of a tipped-over market cart, one foot propped on a broken sign that read "Hot Chicken Soup," was The Stranger.

Cloak flared. Mask missing. Wild grin very present.

And barking orders like he'd been a general in three wars.

"Stranger?!" Darin bellowed.

The man turned, spotted Darin, and threw both arms in the air. "MY LORD! I TOLD YOU I'D SECURE THE TOWN AHEAD OF TIME!"

Darin nearly dropped his hammer. "You WHAT?!"

"I LEFT DAYS AGO, AHEAD OF THE GROUP! WENT FULL SHADOW-STRIDE! SCOUTED THE ENEMY! RALLIED DEFENDERS! AND BUILT A PANCAKE ALTAR IN YOUR HONOR! IT'S OVER THERE—RIGHT NEXT TO THE BLOOD FOUNTAIN!"

Darin stared at him.

"Why didn't you say anything?!" he yelled, dodging a throwing axe that thudded into a nearby beam.

"I DID!" the Stranger shouted back. "I left a note in Steve's saddlebag!"

Darin turned to Steve, who was currently chewing on a wendigo's tail like it was a chew toy. "You EAT PAPER!"

Steve sneezed fire and looked incredibly unbothered.

The Stranger raised one hand dramatically, conjuring a sphere of swirling dark light. "DON'T WORRY, MY LORD! I'VE HELD THE TOWN FOR FOUR DAYS! BUT I'M RUNNING OUT OF INSANE HEROIC MONOLOGUES, SO PLEASE TAKE OVER BEFORE I START QUOTING OPERA!"

Then he launched the sphere into a goblin warlock, who promptly exploded.

Vincent arrived at Darin's side just as another wave of orcs stormed out of a side alley.

"We've got three more wendigos incoming from the rear wall!" he shouted. "And a goblin priest summoning something under the central fountain!"

"Define something!" Darin yelled back.

"Lots of teeth!"

The Sorceress landed beside them in a flicker of fire and smoke. "I'll deal with the summoning. You handle the beasts."

Darin turned toward the town square.

Chaos.

Smoke. Screams. Magic. Blood.

But the defenders were rallying.

The sight of their forces pouring through the gate had sparked a second wind. Gallikarn warriors formed battle rings, holding the fountain. Human captains rallied broken squads. Banners rose again.

Hope surged.

But the wendigos?

They were closing fast.

Darin gritted his teeth. "Grull!"

The Cyclops was slamming an ogre's head into a wall when he turned.

Darin pointed toward the wendigos. "THOSE. SMASH."

Grull roared, spun his massive club, and charged.

Darin and Vincent followed close behind.

The first wendigo shrieked as it leapt from the rooftops. Darin caught it mid-air, his warhammer smashing it across the ribs with a crack that echoed through the square. The beast landed hard—right at Grull's feet.

The Cyclops picked it up.

And threw it.

It crashed through a second-floor balcony and vanished from view.

The other two roared and charged.

Vincent darted left, blades singing as he carved a wide arc across the wendigo's thigh, forcing it to lurch sideways.

Darin pivoted, planting his hammer and driving upward.

BOOM!

Magic flared. The wendigo howled as its jaw cracked sideways.

The final beast slammed into Grull, claws raking across the Cyclops's arm, but Grull only laughed and bit the wendigo on the neck.

The Sorceress, across the square, raised both arms—chanting.

The summoning circle flared red.

Then inverted.

With a shattering snap, the entire ritual collapsed inward like crushed glass. A thunderclap exploded from the fountain, knocking half the goblins flying.

The square fell still.

Ash drifted.

The defenders stood.

The enemy wavered.

Then—

The remaining raiders turned and ran.

Darin stood in the center of the square, chest heaving, warhammer lowered. His army surrounded him—bloody, tired, victorious.

Vincent flicked blood off his blade. "So… that went well."

Grumble returned from the shadows and perched atop Darin's head like a triumphant crown.

Steve trotted up and deposited a wendigo limb at his feet.

Reeka approached, face bloodied but proud. "The gates are ours again."

The Stranger strolled over, sipping from a wine flask he definitely had hidden in that cloak. "You're welcome."

Darin looked around at the burning rooftops, the wounded survivors, the groaning piles of defeated raiders.

"Everyone accounted for?" he asked.

Alvin appeared from the smoke, dragging a hobgoblin captain by one leg. "Everyone who matters."

Darin nodded slowly.

Then turned to the fountain.

The summoning circle, even destroyed, had left behind a mark—charred into the stone.

A symbol.

Familiar.

Old.

The same one that had appeared on the armor of the raiders who had attacked the Gallikarn villages. The mark of The Scarred Flame.

The Sorceress joined him, her expression unreadable. "They are pushing harder now."

Darin didn't respond for a moment.

Then…

"We hold this place. Build a new gate. Bury the dead. Heal the wounded."

His voice was quieter now, but carried weight.

"We're not retreating. We're not waiting. They are coming, and I want them to know…"

He looked up, eyes burning like embers.

"…so are we."