I Was Mistaken for the Reincarnated Evil Overlord-Chapter 57: Divine Comedy

Three Days Later…

Darin had thought he had seen it all.

He had been wrong.

As their caravan reached the meeting point, the horizon crawled with figures. A sea of cultists, hundreds, if not more—stood in disciplined (and slightly fanatical) rows, waiting for him.

Black robes. Hoods. Unsettling grins.

Some carried banners embroidered with his own damn face.

Others held up scrolls as if waiting for divine decrees.

A few had somehow managed to get their hands on drums and were rhythmically chanting his name.

"Overlord! Overlord! Overlord!"

Darin clenched his jaw.

Beside him, Vincent was thriving, beaming as if this was the best day of his life. "Darin, they have a theme song! You have a theme song!"

The Stranger approached the carriage, eyes shining with fanatic devotion. "My lord! The faithful have gathered, as foretold! These are but the first wave, more will join in the coming weeks! We march with your will!"

Darin stared at the growing horde, gripping the edge of the carriage window.

One particularly enthusiastic cultist was aggressively weeping.

Another was throwing flower petals in his general direction.

A third was attempting to baptize a squirrel in his name.

Darin inhaled slowly. "For the love of all things sane, SHUT UP!"

The moment the words left his mouth—

A deafening boom of thunder split the sky.

Lightning cracked across the clouds, illuminating the entire landscape.

The cultists froze.

Then, as one, they collapsed to their knees, pressing their foreheads to the dirt.

"His voice commands the storm!" one cried.

"His will shakes the heavens!" another wailed.

"We are unworthy!"

Darin stared at them.

Vincent erupted into applause. "Bravo! Encore! Encore!"

Alvin crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Show-off."

The Sorceress arched a single, elegant eyebrow, looking at Darin like he was an anomaly even she couldn’t fully understand.

Meanwhile, inside Darin’s already suffering head—

The Overlord cackled. "Yes, YES! That’s how you do it, boy!"

"I DIDN’T EVEN DO ANYTHING!" Darin internally screamed.

"Ah, the nostalgia!" the Overlord continued, ignoring him. "It reminds me of the days when my mere presence sent my armies into divine ecstasy! Watch how they tremble, how they prostrate themselves before your might! Oh, how I’ve missed this!"

Darin exhaled through his nose, barely resisting the urge to punch himself.

The Stranger turned back to him, eyes wide with unshakable faith. "My lord, do you wish to test our devotion further? Shall we walk barefoot upon burning coals to prove our loyalty?"

"No!"

Another cultist sprang up. "Then shall we duel to the death in your honor?"

"Absolutely not!"

"Ah. Then perhaps—"

"Just get in line and start marching, damn it!" Darin barked.

The cultists scrambled to obey, falling into rigid formation.

Darin slumped back in his seat, already exhausted.

Vincent elbowed Alvin. "See? You sure you don’t wanna stick around? Things get fun around here."

Alvin just cursed $$#########.

The Sorceress shook her head. "You’re handling this well, Darin."

Darin shot her a dry look. "Oh, gee, thanks."

The Sorceress smirked.

And so, the newly expanded Disaster Parade continued their march northward… with Darin already regretting everything.

*****

The day passed in a blur of marching, chanting, and way too much enthusiasm from the cultists.

By nightfall, Darin was already sick of all of it.

They had set up camp in a clearing large enough to fit the ever-growing horde of followers, and fires flickered across the makeshift tents. Cultists were everywhere—some sharpening weapons, others meditating, and a select few… still very much trying to capture that one chicken.

Darin didn’t even want to ask where the chicken came from.

He sat at a worn-out table inside his tent, rubbing his temples. Across from him, the Sorceress unfurled a large, detailed map over the surface, pressing it flat with her fingers.

"This is a problem," she stated.

Darin blinked, barely processing her words over the absolute chaos going on just a few feet away.

Vincent and Alvin were wrestling.

Not sparring.

Not dueling.

Just full-blown, childish, roll-around-in-the-dirt wrestling.

Vincent had Alvin in a headlock, laughing wildly as his brother tried to pry himself free.

"Get off me fool!" Alvin gritted through his teeth.

Vincent grinned. "What? This is sibling bonding!"

Darin ignored them and turned back to the Sorceress, deadpan. "You were saying?"

She sighed, clearly used to ignoring the idiots in the room. She tapped a portion of the map.

"We are now far too large to march openly through noble territories. Our numbers have reached a thousand, and if we continue like this, we’ll incite fear among the villages and noble houses nearby. Most of them don’t know about our departure from the capital. If we march past their lands, armed and ready, they’ll assume we’re here to attack."

Darin groaned, slumping back. "Fantastic. Any solutions?"

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Before she could answer, a loud yell erupted from outside.

"WE HAVE IT! THE OVERLORD’S FIRST HOLY WEAPON!"

Darin slammed his forehead onto the table.

The Sorceress, not even flinching, slowly turned her gaze toward the entrance of the tent.

Outside, a group of cultists were holding up the chicken, as if they had just discovered the most divine relic in existence. One of them had wrapped it in a cloth like a sacred artifact.

"It is small, but fearsome!" one cultist declared.

"A noble creature! The first of its kind, chosen by the Overlord!"

"We must guard it with our lives!"

Darin looked back at the Sorceress, tired. "I take it this is why you’re concerned?"

She merely gave him a flat stare. "Do you want them running around in populated villages doing… this?"

Darin did not want to deal with cultists declaring livestock as divine weapons in public.

"Point taken."

The Sorceress exhaled. "Good. Because we have another route." She pointed at a different path on the map. "The Reaper Forest."

Darin sat up. "That sounds horrible."

"It is."

"And it’s better than marching through noble lands?"

"Yes." She nodded. "It’s a shorter route but filled with beasts. Very few dare to cross it."

Darin glanced at their colossal company. "We have over a thousand people, most of them trained cultist fanatics, ex-soldiers, and, unfortunately, Vincent. I don’t think some ’beasts’ are going to be a problem."

Vincent, still holding Alvin in a chokehold, grinned. "Hey!"

The Sorceress gave him a pointed look. "You say that now, but I want you to remember that sentence when we’re knee-deep in something with too many eyes and too many teeth."

Darin waved a hand. "We’ll manage. Better beasts than angry noble houses sending armies after us."

The Sorceress smirked slightly, rolling up the map. "Then it’s decided."

From outside, a cultist ran past the tent entrance, yelling, "THE HOLY WEAPON HAS ESCAPED! SECURE THE CHICKEN!"

Darin had had enough.

He pushed himself up from the table so fast that his chair nearly tipped over. With long, furious strides, he stormed out of the tent, into the absolute nonsense that was his growing army.

The cultists were still scrambling after the damn chicken, diving into the dirt, tripping over each other, and shouting like this was some grand battle for divine favor.

Darin’s eye twitched.

Then, with one swift motion, he snatched the chicken mid-air.

The entire clearing froze.

Dozens of cultists stared in awe. Some dropped to their knees. Others clasped their hands together as if they had just witnessed the single most sacred act in existence.

"The Overlord has claimed his weapon!" one whispered in reverence.

"Truly, we are unworthy to even witness this moment..."

"Does this mean we must train with poultry now?"

Darin squeezed his eyes shut, inhaled deeply, and then roared loud enough to shake the very air.

"ENOUGH!"

Silence.

Complete. Utter. Terrified. Silence.

Darin’s glare could’ve melted iron. "I swear on everything unholy, if I hear so much as a whisper about a ’holy chicken’ again, I will personally cook it and serve it for breakfast!"

Several cultists gasped in horror.

"My Lord, please—"

"SLEEP!" Darin barked. "ALL OF YOU—GO TO SLEEP, RIGHT NOW!"

A few scrambled back toward their tents. Some stood frozen, too afraid to move.

Darin’s patience snapped. "IF I HEAR ONE LOUD SOUND THAT RUINS MY SLEEP, I WILL PUNISH YOU ALL THOROUGHLY!"

His voice thundered across the clearing, echoing through the trees. "NOW GO. TO. SLEEP."

The cultists vanished. Some sprinted so fast they tripped over their own robes. Others simply collapsed where they stood, too afraid to defy him.

Darin exhaled. Slowly.

Then, in the quiet of his own mind, the Overlord chuckled.

"Ahhh, I almost teared up."

Darin gritted his teeth. "Shut. Up."

With that, he turned and stormed back into his tent, dropping the chicken outside as he passed. It clucked once and strutted off, completely unaware of the chaos it had caused.

Vincent, still tangled with Alvin in their ongoing wrestling match, lifted his head and clapped his hands together. "Wow. That was the best Overlord speech yet."

Darin glared at him. "You shut up too."

Vincent just grinned.

Alvin sat up, brushing dirt off his sleeve. "So it is always like this around you?"

"Yep."

"I hate it."

The Sorceress, leaning back against the table with a smirk, finally spoke. "Well, now that the ’Holy Chicken War’ is over, maybe we can actually get some rest before we march through the Reaper Forest tomorrow?"

Darin didn’t even have the energy to argue. He just flopped onto his bedroll and muttered into the fabric, "Wake me up when everything’s less cursed."