Overlord: Start from the Goblin Lair.

Zandia felt like she had a very long dream.

At the beginning of the dream, she seemed to have returned to her former homeland, the Gobi Desert. Although it was barren and the environment was harsh, it was where she was born and grew up. There was her father who was still strong and energetic, her loyal uncles, every tribe member she remembered and didn't remember, even the orcs. There, she seemed to have returned to her childhood, that carefree childhood.

At that time, she was unable to participate in training, could not learn to manage the affairs of the clan, and writing and language were new things for her that had yet to be explored, but so what?
There, she watched the sun gradually setting in the afternoon day after day. The warm and comfortable glow of the rays of light sprinkled on her, almost making her melt into that golden world. Zandia seemed to see that in that light there was a magical road leading beyond the sky, winding upwards, and it seemed that if she followed it, she would reach a legendary world.

It is said that the ancestors of centaurs came from there and spread the seeds of fire to every wilderness.

Zandia couldn't remember how many times she had seen this scene. As she watched it again and again, the world became more and more real, and one end of the magical road got closer and closer to her, first at the horizon, then at the top of the mountain, then halfway up the mountain, and finally extending in front of her.

She had never seen such a gorgeous road. Even the Rose City that she had seen from afar did not have such a road. When she put her front hooves on it, all the bones in her body softened and the hooves made pleasant ringing sounds when hitting the road. The cheerful music made her eager to rush into the distance and embark on a journey to a distant world.

"You don't want to go up there." A familiar voice sounded from behind Zandia, and she turned around, only seeing her father and other tribesmen smiling at her.

She was sure that the sound was not made by them.

"Zantia? Go ahead," her father looked at her lovingly, "Go ahead, horses should run far away, just like us, and so should you."

"Go ahead, we will meet again at the end, that is our only home."

"You don't want to go up there."

Zandia was stunned. The voice sounded again, as if it was right in front of her, but she couldn't see that person at all?

The voice was familiar, but definitely not from her tribe.

"Who are you? Why do you say that?"

"Silly child, I am your father," the previous patriarch looked at Zandiya in confusion, "Zandiya, what's wrong with you?"

"No, not you." Zandia took two steps to the side and back, carefully avoiding the road behind her that almost fell under her hooves. "There is another person, there is another person - who are you?"

"Where are you talking to me from?"

"Under the glory of Tyr, Miss Zandia." The voice seemed to be clearer. It was the voice of a middle-aged woman, sounding sincere and serious. "His glory is everywhere, but the light here is not the path to guide you forward."

"Because everything here is an illusion, wake up and go back to your real friends." "What are you talking about? This is my home, I grew up here!"

Zandia jumped back cautiously, and the road under the sun turned like a flexible snake, holding her steadily in the air: "Come out and talk! What are you, a wizard?"

"I cannot delve deeper into your dream, Miss Zandia," the voice seemed bitter, "wake up from this overly embellished dream of yours, otherwise it will be too late."

"Whitewash? This is my..." A trace of trance flashed across Zandia's eyes, "...home?"

In the sky, bursts of thunder suddenly sounded, getting closer and closer, followed by dark clouds that exuded a cold and deadly atmosphere. The whole world began to shake with her shaking.

"No! No no no no—"

Zandia was in mid-air, looking at the ground below in horror. There, her father and tribesmen, who had been smiling at her with relief, suddenly became blurred. As her will wavered again, a whirlwind carrying sand and dust blew past, scraping off most of the skin and flesh on the horses and men, revealing a trail of white bones.

As if this was not enough to shake her will, the whirlwind seemed to tear open a corner of the curtain. As it rolled towards the distance, the surrounding earth dissipated, revealing its original appearance. The snow, which was more transparent than the bones of the centaurs, was like a mirror, reflecting the golden sunlight in the sky and ruthlessly tearing apart the camouflage there.

Zandia looked toward the horizon in astonishment. The magical road beneath her feet seemed like a dreamlike bubble that could burst at any time. A pale waning moon replaced the setting sun, and the night drove away the sunset glow. At the end of the road, there seemed to be a bloody mouth covered with sharp teeth opening, waiting for her delicious snack to be delivered to the door.

"The centaur's fey bloodline is connected to nature, which gives you an intuitive connection with the natural world," the voice echoed in her ears. "You may not feel it at ordinary times, but on the verge of life and death, this illusion is extremely clear, even more accurate than the vague prophecies of those prophets."

"What should I do?!" Zandia could no longer care about anything else at the moment. She could only shout loudly, seeking advice from the familiar voice.

"..." The voice was silent for a moment, "What else can I do? Jump down!"

“This is your own dream!”

"what!"

Zandia's four hooves suddenly crushed the illusory road under her feet and she leaped down to the snow. The wind whistled in her ears, and the seemingly harmless snow seemed to have turned into a huge abyss in an instant, trying to swallow her. However, just when she thought she was doomed, a pair of black wings that could cover the sky and the sun suddenly swept in front of her, and the broad back covered with shiny black scales lifted her up and carried Zandia steadily to a space crack that appeared at an unknown time.

There were intricate and regular symbols around the crack, as if they supported the crack, allowing the giant flying reptile to take the people and horses out of this world full of destruction and into the unknown void. If Ron was here, he would definitely be able to see the origin of these symbols.

These are all the effective material structures that he put into the potion to treat the demonic plague! (End of this chapter)