The Lord Is Too Overbearing

In Basil’s past life, the Elves had decided to ask the other races to help them solve the problem that they couldn’t handle. They didn’t want to involve that many races, however, which was why they had claimed they had a little misunderstanding.

They knew the human was the nosiest race; and as they had expected, the human quickly took the bait. The reason why they aimed for the humans to aid them, however, wasn’t because they trusted the humans.

The Elves had a good relationship with all of the existing races in this world, except for the human. The nature between the two races contradicted each other, so they couldn’t find the middle ground where they could get along with each other.

Because of that, rather than bringing harm to the races they had a good relationship with, the Elves decided to “sacrifice” the humans instead.

“A Mythical Beast? Isn’t that guess too farfetched?” Iliana, standing in front of the Legion she commanded, frowned. “If that is really the case, I don’t see any reason for us to even go there.”

“This is an opportunity, which is why I agreed to go,” Basil answered calmly.

Two days had passed since Basil’s discussion with Anthony. The news of his departure to Yitoupheo for “diplomatic reasons” was announced a day after, sparking the people’s interest and joy.

Unaware of what was actually happening, the people were optimistic that Basil would be able to strengthen the relationship Braxtein had with the Elves.

“Which tribe is having the ‘conflict’ again?”

“Alphoetra.”

“It is currently managed by the daughter of the Elf Empress, no?”

“Yes.”

“What a cunning bastard.”

Iliana clicked her tongue in distaste—she didn’t like to be played. After hearing the truth about the “conflict” from Basil, she developed a dislike towards Elves in general.

“Well, what can I say? You are going to be the leader this time—I will just follow your command.” In the end, she shrugged nonchalantly, and entrusted everything to Basil—including her Legion.

Gazing over the Legion in front of him, Basil gauged each of the soldiers’ individual prowess. He didn’t need to worry about their discipline—Iliana had guided them well—but their individual prowess was slightly unsatisfactory.

His eyes squinted judgementally, and that gesture made the back of the soldiers sweat. Compared to Iliana, Basil was just scary on another level.

Boom!

“Gahak!”

“Kaahk!”

“T-This pressure…!”

Because they were going to face a Mythical Beast, Basil wanted to see how well they could tolerate intimidation, thus he exposed them to his refined killing intent. None of them fell to the ground, but they were shaking uncontrollably.

‘This is not my full killing intent, but I’ll accept it,’ he thought. ‘They will be able to stay awake upon being exposed to a Coreless Dragon’s killing intent.’

Dragons had a special Art dedicated solely to intimidate their opponents. Other than their capability to use Magic with just a couple of words, that Art was one of the reasons why facing against them was a nightmare.

Those who had a weak heart could only dream of being able to stay alive upon being exposed to the overwhelmingly immense killing intent.

Retracting his killing intent, Basil casually asked the soldiers, “Were you afraid?” He acted as if he hadn’t just done anything a few moments prior.

“Y-Yes, sir!” Even though they still hadn’t gotten over with their fear yet, the soldiers still could answer loudly.

“Good. At least all of you are brave despite your shortcomings.” Basil meant well, but the soldiers still couldn’t help feeling criticized. “Keep in mind that you have to show, at least, this much bravery in front of our enemy later.”

“Yes, sir!”

Nodding his head lightly, Basil turned around. He then hopped on to Deacon’s back, prompting Iliana and Ione to do the same afterwards.

Deacon, who had been lowering his body, stood straightly, allowing the soldiers to marvel at his mighty appearance. Two years had passed, and the King Saberwolf was on the verge of becoming a Tyrant Saberwolf—his might was undisputable.

“We have soldiers following behind our back—take it slow,” Basil reminded.

“Yes, Master,” Deacon answered stoically.

“Soldiers, March!”

At Basil’s command, the Legion marched, leaving Randalvine, the capital of their beloved Kingdom. No one saw them off—not even the King himself—but they didn’t feel disheartened in the least bit.

–Do you want to be cheered at?

–If you want to be cheered at so much, come home with a victory. Carrying the people’s cheers when you leave, but bearing the people’s tears when you return is a disgrace!

–If you want to hear the cheers, hear them when you return. For that to happen, excel!

Basil’s words were constantly repeated in their mind like a reminder. They admired greatly the way he thought, and that pumped them up even more.

With vigour and enthusiasm, the people headed to the north, where the Great Forest of Yitoupheo was located.

…

In the center of the Great Forest of Yitoupheo, the Empire of the Elven Race was located. It was nothing compared to the territory the Human Empire ruled over, but a glance was all it needed to tell it was more well off than the Human Empire.

Although most of its people integrated their house into a tree, the buildings that stood alone there were grandiose enough to make all of the Human Kings wonder just how much money should have been spent to build all of them.

The houses that were integrated into the trees also didn’t look shabby. The architecture looked elegant and fancy.

The craftsmanship was simply commendable, and the fact that most of them were made by the help of the Spirits would simply boggle one’s mind.

“The Mythical Slayer? Do you mean Braxtein Kingdom’s Supreme Genius?”

“Yes, Your Highness…”

“Oh… This is bound to be interesting, Nissena.”

In one of the biggest buildings in the Elven Empire, Padeitophys—in the bedroom that was decorated with grandeur; one could find two women with a blonde hair, a pair of pointed ears, and a peerless beauty.

The first Elf was exuding an aura unique to rulers and Royal descent. She even had a beautiful tiara sitting on top of her head, which further emphasized her status as the Princess of Padeitophys Empire.

She was the sole daughter of the Elf Empress, Tinuviel, the current chief of Alphoetra Tribe. Her beauty, elegance, and intelligence were undisputed—many Elves agreed her position as the next Empress was guaranteed.

The beautiful Elf kneeling beside her was her right hand and her loyal bodyguard, Nissena. The two were childhood friends—they had spent a hundred years together—so their bond was unquestionably strong.

“On the other side, we have the wielder of Joyeuse from Frachtenhein Kingdom. I wonder how Basil Pacifer, as the wielder of Durendal, will react the moment he meets the person whose sword is said to be made out of the sword he wields.”

“The wielder of Joyeuse is known because he wields Joyeuse, Your Highness,” Nissena remarked. “He is but a Peak Stage Violet Core Knight, who became exceptional because of the sword.”

“What are you hinting at?” Tinuviel quirked her eyebrow delicately as she turned to Nissena. “Basil Pacifer is clearly superior?”

Nodding her head, Nissena explained, “No one knew Basil Pacifer wielded Durendal until every Seventh Circle Mage in Braxtein Kingdom saw him cut a mountain in a swing with it.”

“Unlike the wielder of Joyeuse, he is not a braggart. In fact, if it wasn’t for the fact that he came to the Peak Summit, no one would know he had Durendal with him.”

“Peak Summit is an event where all of Braxtein Kingdom’s Seven Circle Mages gather, isn’t it?” Tinuviel remarked. “Now that you talked about it, the one who claimed he wielded Durendal was the Royal Appraiser too, not himself.”

Tinuviel hummed to herself, causing Nissena to ask in curiosity, “Do you have something in mind, Your Highness?”

“He refused the Royal Appraiser’s offer to appraise his other sword, didn’t he? I wonder what the identity of that sword is.”

Smiling in wonder for a couple of seconds, Tinuviel eventually shook her head. “Well, it doesn’t really matter. What matters is, who will be able to help us slay that Beast.”

“Pardon my insolence, Your Highness. May I ask you a question?” Nissena asked respectfully.

“Pray tell, my servant.”

“Why are you so sure that the humans will help us until the end? No matter how greedy they are, that Beast, after all, no longer has its Core to be extracted. Fighting it without gaining anything—I don’t think they will help us as soon as they find out about it.”

Nissena’s concern was the reason why the humans had retreated in Basil’s past life. The people who had gone there simply didn’t see any merit in helping the two tribes who were trying to kill the Coreless Mythical Beast.

Upon being confronted abut it, the two tribes vehemently denied that they had known beforehand of the Mythical Beast’s existence until the end. This caused a bad blood between the Human Empire and the Elven Empire.

The Elven Empire’s decision to backup the two tribes appalled the other races. They, who didn’t expect their action would backfire on them, really panicked when there was no one willing to help them.

The responsibility to salvage the situation was entirely put on Tinuviel, the Empress’ daughter. She succeeded in the end, but at the cost of losing one of the small Elven tribes in Padeitophys.

Ashamed of her incompetence, she decided to kill herself, which had really saddened the Empress, her mother greatly.

Of course, this was all in the past. No one knew what would happen in this timeline, but Basil had her fate in his hands.

“That man, Basil Pacifer—I feel we have a lot in common. For some reason, I believe he will stay even after finding out the truth.”

“Is it another one of your supernatural sense episodes, Your Highness?”

“Who knows?” Tinuviel smiled as she put her hand on her chest to feel her beating heart. “We just have to be ready for what he will request of us.”

Knock. Knock.

The two ceased their conversation when someone knocked on the door of Tinuviel’s bedroom. Said Princess immediately allowed the person to speak, but not to enter her bedroom.

“The Braxtein’s Golden Apple, Basil Pacifer, has arrived, Your Highness.”

“Your message is heard. Off you go,” Tinuviel dismissed the guard. Turning to Nissena, she smiled. “It has only been two days, hasn’t it? Let us greet our guests. They must be tired due to their travel.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Standing up, Nissena followed closely behind Tinuviel as they headed out to meet Basil and his entourage. Both of them were hoping he was the one who they could have a good relationship with.