What began as two had become seven.
Their little party of misfits—originally just Sin and Touch Me—had slowly transformed into something bigger. It started with Ancient One and Nishikienrai, then grew again when the game got worse.
More PKs. More griefers. More self-proclaimed "lore roleplayers" deciding that anything heteromorphic—anything ugly, grotesque, or non-human—was fair game for hunting.
"Immersion," they called it.
"Racism," Sin called it.
They weren't the only ones who noticed. Every day, Touch Me would swoop into a warzone and pull someone out. Half the time he didn't even ask if they wanted to be saved. He just did it.
"Why?" someone once asked him in global chat.
Touch Me replied with glowing text effects behind his avatar and the words JUSTICE HAS ARRIVED booming across the field.
They called him cringe.
He still saved them.
Their party now included:
Wish III, a haunted wraith who never spoke but was freakishly good at magic traps and cursed item crafting.
Flatfoot, a lizardman monk with max evasion and a dodge animation that looked like interpretive dance.
Warrior Takemikazuchi, an armored insect with a flaming katana and a voice like he belonged in a samurai anime. He had strong dad energy.
Together, the party now looked like the final boss room of a horror-themed JRPG.
Sin loved it.
"Well," Nishikienrai said one evening, as they watched Wish III silently drown NPCs for alchemy mats, "this is officially the ugliest party in the game."
"Speak for yourself," Sin replied.
"You don't even have a face."
"Exactly."
It was during one of their relaxed post-grind walks that it happened.
They were exploring a low-level field outside of World Tree Zone 6—a kind of golden plains area meant for newbies and early mob encounters. It had peaceful music. A bright sky.
And the sound of players yelling.
Touch Me stopped. So did everyone else.
They crept forward—past the tall grass—and saw them:
Six human avatars, surrounding a lone skeleton player, who was clearly low-level and nearly broken. His robe was tattered. He held no weapon. His name floated above him in plain white letters:
Momonga
Sin leaned in. "You've got to be kidding me."
"Level 18," Ancient One muttered. "They're bullying someone who hasn't even unlocked their second job class."
One of the humans was already drawing a sword.
Touch Me didn't wait.
He launched forward like a missile, glowing justice aura and all, and landed in the middle of the group with a hero landing that shook the field.
"IN THE NAME OF JUSTICE—" BOOM.
The humans scattered.
Sin, sighing, followed. "You couldn't have gone ten more seconds without the announcement text?"
The fight wasn't even a fight. Touch Me drew aggro. Flatfoot and Takemikazuchi stunned. Sin dropped a judgment bolt. Wish III set a cursed zone that paralyzed the last guy before he even turned around.
Nishikienrai spent most of the time picking flowers nearby.
After the attackers were gone—either dead or force-logged out—Sin turned to the skeleton.
Momonga was standing awkwardly, hands slightly raised, posture tense.
He wasn't a cool, evil-looking lich. No black flame eyes. No terrifying armor.
Just… a basic low-level skeleton in a beginner robe.
"You good?" Touch Me asked.
Momonga blinked. "Y-Yeah. I think so."
"You need healing?"
"I don't—actually have any HP left to heal."
Touch Me kneeled beside him anyway, casting a basic regen aura.
"Why'd you help me?" Momonga asked, still sounding confused.
Sin crossed his arms. "Because you were about to get dogpiled."
Momonga tilted his head. "That's happened like five times this week. Usually people join in."
"Yeah," Sin muttered. "That sounds about right."
"Also," Momonga added, "what is with your cosmetic?"
He gestured to the floating golden kanji behind Touch Me that still said JUSTICE HAS ARRIVED, radiating holy light with background music that sounded suspiciously like a sentai show.
Everyone turned.
And then, as if on cue, the whole party burst out laughing.
Nishikienrai doubled over.
Even Wish III let out a faint wheeze that might've been laughter. Or a death curse. Hard to say.
"Oh god," Sin said. "You should've seen it the first time it activated in a dungeon. Blinded the healer."
"Blinded the mobs, too," Takemikazuchi added helpfully.
"It's a symbol," Touch Me insisted.
"A symbol of what?" Momonga asked.
"Common sense," Touch Me replied smoothly. "Saving someone who is in trouble is common sense."
That shut everyone up.
Because—annoying as he was—Touch Me was right.
They all knew it.
It was the only reason any of them were together in the first place.
Later that night, they invited Momonga to join the party.
He hesitated.
"I'm not really strong," he admitted. "I got into this game because I liked the lore. I wanted to roleplay a kind of ancient sorcerer, y'know? One of the old undead who's struggling to maintain his humanity…"
Everyone stared at him.
"That sounds dope," said Nishikienrai.
"Needs some buffs," said Wish III.
"I respect the drama," added Ancient One.
Momonga blinked.
"So… I'm in?"
Sin tilted his head. "You already are."
Touch Me sent him a party invite.
And just like that, the little freak party had its eighth member.
A low-level skeleton roleplayer who had no idea he'd one day become the most terrifying name in YGGDRASIL's history.
But for now?
He was just Momonga.
Another unwanted, weird, squishy player—finally surrounded by people who weren't trying to kill him.