One of the most interesting choices that came from adapting Overlord IV is that the series skipped an entire arc—two entire light novels worth of story. This left an odd gap between episodes seven and eight of that series—where we go from Ainz dealing with dwarfs and dragons to setting up the final battle against the Re-Estize Kingdom. Meanwhile, various characters chat about the off-screen events in the Roble Holy Kingdom. This film fills in that gap.
Overlord: The Sacred Kingdom is told almost entirely through the viewpoint of the new character Neia Baraja. In stark contrast to the series, we never hear Ainz’s inner thoughts (outside of a few moments halfway through the film). This allows us to better see Ainz through Neia’s eyes. We have no idea why Ainz is doing what he’s doing, and Neia’s interpretation seems logical—even if we know there’s got to be more going on. It’s a new twist on telling the story—not letting us in on the truth until the final credits roll.
It helps that Neia is a great character. She begins as a misfit paladin, and we watch step-by-step as she becomes radicalized into Ainz’s most fanatical human believer. In the process, she becomes a hero—not a paladin of old but one suited for the dark times facing her kingdom.
And that brings us to the main thematic exploration of the film: the nature of justice. If the Roble Holy Kingdom were to be described in one word, it would be “chivalry.” They are all about facing evil head-on and protecting the weak and helpless.
Remedios Custodio, the head of the paladins, fully believes in this idea of justice—that if she’s good and pure enough, the perfect solution can be found. While this may have proven true for most of her life, Jaldabaoth’s invasion has shown it to be the naive dream it is. Almost immediately, the demi-human invaders take advantage of the paladin’s moral code and start using human children as hostages—knowing the upstanding knights won’t be able to do what’s needed to win.
While Remedios refuses to bend to the cold mathematics of war—that sometimes you have to sacrifice a few so that the many can survive—Neia is constantly searching for a new, more practical interpretation of justice. It is in Ainz that she finds her new ideal.
The Sorcerer King is a walking oxymoron—the natural enemy of humanity going out of his way to help a struggling human kingdom. Time and again, he steps in to help Neia and her rank-and-file allies, although doing so will leave him weaker for the looming battle with Jaldabaoth. Through him, she comes to believe that justice can not exist without the power to back it up. Yet, power alone is not justice either. It is power used for the sake of others that is true justice. Thus, in her mind, Ainz is the personification of that ideal—an undead god of justice walking among mankind. The film is simply the battle between the ideal, though impotent, form of justice and Neia’s personified by Ainz. It makes for a conflict as exciting as that between Ainz and Jaldabaoth.
Luckily, the story isn’t all doom, gloom, and thematic exploration. In the back half of the film, Neia is left separated from Ainz, forced to fight for her people without him. However, she’s not alone. This part of the film pairs Neia with demon maid CZ2128 and they form an unlikely friendship. This allows for some levity in the otherwise gruesome, depressing film. Moreover, it shows that the former NPC denizens of Nazarak can form personal bonds and even friendships with the humans of this world—not just use them as chess pieces in the game of world domination. Of course, this requires a sycophantic worship of Ainz to even lay the groundwork, but there is at least some hope for humanity going forward.
On the visual side of things, while some scenes stood out due to their supremely graphic content, there weren’t any that seemed to jump out in a technical sense. Rather, the animation quality of the film is simply above average throughout. There are no drops in quality, be it a scene full of action or nothing but a pair of talking heads. It’s well-directed and well-animated—a high point for the series that makes the jump to the big screen feel deserved. And as for the music, it’s exactly what you’ve come to expect—a Gothic-sounding orchestra with a theme song composed by series regular Tom Hack.
Yet, as solid as this film is throughout, there is a bit of an elephant in the room. Those familiar with the novels will notice more than a few abridgments and changes. Some of these work great, like the aforementioned limiting of the viewpoint to Neia, while others, like the time compression of some events and the complete cutting of others, oversimplify the political situation and leave Neia a bit less developed than she should be. As much as I enjoyed the final product, part of me wishes this arc would have gotten the TV treatment just for the additional flexibility in runtime. But who knows, maybe it’ll get the Demon Slayer: Mugen Train treatment and get an expanded TV version in the future.
In the end, Overlord: The Sacred Kingdom is a great watch. It’s got a fun plot, memorable characters, and an enjoyable thematic exploration. It is certainly worth a watch for those who like Overlord—and its nature as a one-off story in a new location makes it perfect for even lapsed fans. There’s a reason that this is one of the series’ most popular arcs, and the film captures the story’s essence expertly—even if a bit too much was left on the cutting room floor.