A/N: I do not own Negima. This will be the only time in this story when I write it. I do however own a copy of the game Overlord. Details down below.
Far off on a high plateau on a summer day, a huge ruined tower standing on top of a mountain oversees the landscape beneath. The tower has seen much better days because there are large holes in the walls and the top has almost collapsed down, bringing the tower down with it. The insides of the tower are not a pleasant sight either. The pillars stand, barely. The great hall that probably once was a throne room is possibly the best preserved in the entire tower, since apart from a few chunks of stone from the throne and its platform, it's intact.
Watching over these ruins are small brown goblins, or goblin-like creatures. Clad in loincloths and armed with clubs, they would stand little chance against what had come against them before, if it comes back. But there seems to be an old one of these tiny creatures. He is wearing a ragged and torn robe across his back with a small glowing stone hanging on a string tied to a stick. He is in deep thought. He must be either planning a strike on someone or something, or he is doing what he can to ensure that his small group of fighters stay alive, inside the tower.
"How long has it been since our Master was killed? Five years? Must have been. I haven't seen any real action since then. Those wretched heroes! They did this. Killed our Master, looted and all but destroyed the Tower of Evil and left us alive to rot without someone to lead us. Bah! This is just a setback for the forces of Darkness. We will punish those so-called heroes. But I admit, we may have to find a new Master."
A feeling snapped up on his spine as he finished his thoughts. A huge surge of magic energy was occurring right now a few meters outside the Tower. Although his small group were of magical origin, only he had learned how to "smell" magic. It is never a good smell. Or it could be, depending on what kind of magic. But this smell was new. It didn't smell like something he had noticed, and he has sensed a lot of magic smells.
"Gubbin, Mouldy, Giblet! You're with me! Something is coming here! The rest of you useless bags of dung, guard the throne, or I'll nail you out to the crows as I did with the jester."
The old creature rushed towards some downward stair with three of his fighters. The smell just keeps getting stronger and stronger for every second. And the closer the group gets the more magic the others can sense. This is truly powerful magic, stronger than what the old creature had smelled before. Whatever it was, it could either prove their salvation, or their demise.
As the small group of creatures exited the Tower, an explosion happened right in their faces, knocking them back. When they rise up, they can see a small group of unconscious humans, or human looking people. The majority are girls; five of them have identical clothing. The girls with identical clothing are different so to speak. Although they look human, the old creature doesn't recall human having cat-like ears and horns with tails.
But the strongest smell of magic originated from another of this unconscious group. A small boy by the looks of it, with white spiky hair. His clothing is different as well from the others. His clothing is light regalia blue with a pocket on the left side of the shirt, if it is a shirt, and the pants are similar to the shirt. Maybe he is a prince, from some foreign country no one has ever heard about? But the scent of magic says that he is a magic user. Those are really rare these days. But how come someone is this powerful?
Giblet is about to go crazy over a girl dressed in what can best described as lacy clothing, this girl has blonde hair and a pair of those things scholars these days call "glasses." A pair of strange looking swords with no hilt on either hangs on both her flanks. Giblet is dancing around her unconscious form shouting some gibberish.
"Giblet! Stop dancing at once!" He shouts at once at his fighter. He had to think this over. This was clearly the work of the Gods. Where these people come from doesn't matter. What does matter is that they showed up at a requesting thought. Then it hits him. The magic started when he thought that he needed a new Master. And these were powerful people. Yes, this could be their salvation.
"Mouldy, get the others, we'll need all the hands we need to carry these people inside. Very gently, of course."
The next day, the boy wakes up with a burning headache. He has never felt something like this before. Not since-
Then it all floods back to him. His enemies smashing his forces, his primary companions being blasted by that huge spell, and then, he can't remember anything else. It's all a blur to him. Well one thing he remembers for sure: he wasn't encased in a stone coffin.
"Quick! Get it open before…" A voice is heard from the outside, when he blasts apart the walls of the coffin along with the removable roof. As he stands up, he notices the odd group of creatures standing before with fright in their eyes, except the old one. "Oh, never mind." The old creature speaks again, as the boy steps down from the ruins of the coffin.
"I take it that you're the one who put me in that coffin." He tells the old short creature that has clothing at least. The others only wear loin cloths and clubs, so they don't seem like intelligent beings.
"Yes, I had the minions put you in the healing coffin. You've been asleep for only a day or so. The girls are still resting." The old thing tells him.
"I have a few questions. One; who are you? Two; where are we? And three; why did you bother?" the boy asks this creature standing before him, his magic energy building up.
"I am Gnarl, Minion master and devoted servant of Darkness. And you and your friends are in the Tower of Evil, the ultimate citadel for the forces of Darkness. And I bothered because I am one to believe in omens, which are very rare on this world. And now it is my turn. Do you remember your name, young lad?"
This "young lad" had to forgive the old creature due to ignorance. But if he was anything, it was not young. And he does remember his name.
"It's Fate." He answers this old creature, which's patiently for the whole name. "Fate Averruncus."
A/N: What, you weren't expecting Fate to be the protagonist for once? Let me tell you something. This is a story which I will not complete in a row; it's just something I write to pass the time when I'm bored or something like that.
This is taking place after the World Peace Festival arc. Instead of being killed, Fate, Tsukuyomi (which I'm sure you figured out by now) and his Ministra have been sent to another world, in other words, this is a Negima/Overlord crossover fan fiction story. Overlord is a game when you play a Sauron based warlord who has an army behind him literally, and goes on to conquer the whole world. Instead of having the warlord, Fate becomes the overlord for this army.
Don't expect this to go on, though. It might update from time to time when I feel for it. Otherwise, stick to other stories for the time being.