I Was Mistaken for the Reincarnated Evil Overlord-Chapter 51: A War of Faith and Madness

The night had settled over the kingdom, but within the palace walls, the battle had already begun.

Not with swords. Not with blood.

But with words, influence, and an ever-growing cult of absolute lunatics.

Vincent was at the center of it all, lounging like a man who had already won. Across from him, The Stranger (now officially THE STRANGER) sat with an unnerving amount of energy. The Sorceress leaned against a bookshelf, arms crossed, watching the proceedings with her usual air of quiet judgment.

Darin, to his own surprise, was actually paying attention.

Because, for once, this was a fight he couldn’t swing his warhammer at until it stopped being a problem.

Vincent gestured toward the map laid out before them. It was covered in hastily scribbled notes, marks of religious sites, noble territories, and city squares where crowds could gather.

"The Church wants to force the King’s hand by turning public opinion against you," Vincent mused, tapping a section of the city with a dagger. "Which means… we turn it back."

The Stranger nodded eagerly. "Ah, yes! We must counter their doctrine with our truth."

Darin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "And what exactly is our truth?"

The Stranger’s eyes gleamed. "That you are the Overlord, the bringer of fate, the herald of—"

The Sorceress cut in. "No."

The Stranger deflated slightly.

Vincent chuckled. "Not quite that extreme, but we can use the chaos they’ve created against them. Right now, the people are confused. Some believe you’re a villain, some think you’re a hero, and some—"

he gestured vaguely at The Stranger, "are fully convinced you’re the second coming of prophecy."

The Stranger puffed his chest out proudly. "They are correct."

Vincent continued, ignoring him. "If we make you the voice of reason in all this madness, then the Church looks like the ones stirring up unnecessary conflict."

Darin frowned. "So, what, I just… go out there and give speeches?"

Vincent smirked. "Not just speeches."

Darin narrowed his eyes. "What are you planning?"

Vincent leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "Oh, nothing too complicated. Just a grand public display to show the people that you’re not some dark menace trying to consume the kingdom in fire and shadows."

Darin crossed his arms. "And how, exactly, do we do that?"

The Stranger raised a finger. "A dramatic proclamation!"

Vincent shook his head. "Too culty."

The Sorceress added, "An open challenge to the Church would escalate things."

The Stranger tried again. "A miracle in the town square?"

Vincent smirked. "Now you’re thinking."

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Darin sighed. "I’m bad at magic."

The Stranger placed a dramatic hand over his chest. "You are magic, my lord."

Darin gave him a look. "That’s not how that works."

Before anyone could add to the nonsense, something shifted.

It was subtle at first.

Like a faint whisper at the edge of a dream, a feeling of something old stirring from its slumber. The hairs on the back of Darin’s neck rose, a cold prickle crawling down his spine.

And then—

A voice.

Smooth. Familiar. Too familiar.

A dark chuckle echoed in the recesses of his mind.

"Oh, Darin. Did you miss me?"

Darin’s entire body locked up. His fingers clenched around the edge of the table.

No. No, no, no.

The Overlord was awake.

It was slow, like something stretching after a long, luxurious nap, knowing it had all the time in the world.

Darin inhaled sharply, keeping his expression neutral. His heart, however, pounded in his chest.

Vincent and the Sorceress were still talking.

The Stranger was rambling about something probably insane.

None of them noticed the war that had suddenly erupted inside Darin’s head.

The Overlord hummed, pleased. "You’ve done well without me, I see."

Darin gritted his teeth. Not now.

"Oh, but I insist." The Overlord’s tone was teasing, but there was something deeper beneath it. "Did you think I would sleep forever? That you could pretend I wasn’t here?"

Darin focused on his breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Do not react. Do not engage.

"Honestly, Darin." The Overlord sighed as if he were the one suffering. "You’ve let things get messy."

Darin exhaled slowly. What do you want?

"I just woke up, and you’re already trying to get rid of me?" The Overlord tsked. "How cold."

You didn’t answer my question.

The Overlord chuckled, low and rich with amusement. "I don’t want anything. I just find it… fascinating, watching you squirm through all this."

Darin ignored him.

The Overlord, unsurprisingly, didn’t care.

"So. What’s the plan, little knight? Will you try to be a leader now?"

Darin’s fingers twitched.

His reflection in the polished silver goblet in front of him flickered for just a second, his own face, but the eyes were different.

Wrong.

Blue. Sharp. Amused.

He resisted the urge to shove the goblet off the table.

"Oh, but don’t worry." The Overlord’s voice dripped with mock approval. "I like this strategy of yours. It’s so… entertaining."

Darin inhaled sharply through his nose.

The Overlord had been quiet, completely absent, for days after the duel with duke varian. He had thought he’d finally been rid of him, that the dark presence had burned itself out after taking over his body.

Apparently not.

No, the Overlord had simply watched from the shadows of his mind, half asleep.

Waiting for the perfect moment to return.

Darin clenched his jaw. I don’t have time for this.

The Overlord chuckled. "Oh, but you do. You see, Darin, you may be playing politics now, but me? I am simply enjoying the show."

Darin’s breath hitched. His body tensed, but outwardly, he remained still.

Vincent and the Sorceress were still deep in discussion.

But—

The Stranger was watching him.

For a brief, almost imperceptible moment, The Stranger’s ever-manic energy stilled. His head tilted slightly, his gaze sharp.

Darin swallowed. Did he—?

No. He couldn’t have noticed. No one knew.

…Right?

But before he could think too much about it, the heavy doors swung open.

A voice rang out.

"Well, this looks interesting."

Everyone turned as Greta strolled in, completely unbothered. She held a basket of pastries, as usual, and plopped herself into the nearest chair like she owned the place.

Darin grasped onto the distraction like a drowning man reaching for a lifeline.

He turned to Greta, forcing his mind to focus. "Where have you been?"

Greta smirked, taking a bite of a scone. "Around."

Vincent leaned back in his chair, amused. "You came in at a good time. We’re planning to turn Darin into a public sensation before the Church can ruin him."

Greta raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Bold of you to assume they haven’t already ruined themselves."

Darin frowned, pushing his inner turmoil aside. "What do you mean?"

Greta dusted off her hands. "The people are divided, sure. But the Church? They’re starting to look desperate. And desperation makes people stupid."

The Sorceress nodded. "She’s not wrong. If they push too hard, they might lose support instead of gaining it."

Vincent smirked. "Which means we just have to give them the perfect opportunity to overplay their hand."

Darin ran a hand through his damp hair. "So… what, we bait them?"

Vincent’s grin widened. "Exactly."

"Ohhh," the Overlord purred in his mind. "This is a delicious little scheme."

Darin stiffened.

"Go on, Darin. Let’s see just how much of a leader you can be."

Darin slammed his mental walls shut.

The Overlord chuckled, dark and knowing, but he did not resist.

He had no need to.

Because the seed had already been planted.

Greta stretched, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "Well, this is much more exciting than I expected."

Darin exhaled slowly, looking down at the map once more.

This was him

A war of influence, strategy, and mind games.