My Kingdom Building Done Right!

Chapter 211: The Legend Of An Ancient Era

"Nghhh!" Logan groaned as he opened his eyes.

As his vision cleared, he found himself in an unfamiliar room. He panicked a little at first, but calmed down a bit when he realized that Rasta and Khan were with him.

It was then that he remembered how he had been knocked unconscious, making the Orc Champion clench his fists tightly.

"How long was I out?" Logan asked.

"Not long," Rasta answered. "Half an hour at most. How are you feeling?"

"I’ll live," Logan slowly propped himself up from the floor. Since the bed was too small for him, Rasta suggested that they lay their leader down on the floor.

He and Khan stood vigil, making sure no harm could reach their unconscious leader, who was in his most vulnerable moment.

"Is he really that strong?" Khan asked with genuine curiosity. "You went all-out, right, Leader?"

"I did," Logan replied, heaving a deep sigh. "I went all-out, yet I still lost. Why? Do you want to challenge him?"

"Yes!" Khan answered without hesitation. "I want to know just how strong he is!"

"Do what you want."

"Mmm!"

Khan knew he had no chance of winning against Brann. After all, his leader had lost, and he wasn’t any stronger. However, he wanted to understand just how strong the "weak" human had become after gaining Leone’s blessing.

"Also, that battle wasn’t fair," Khan stated. "It was a two-on-one battle. It should have been one-on-one."

The Orc Warlord had no idea how Brann and Boris had merged to form a very powerful warrior that even their leader couldn’t handle with his full power.

"Excuses are for the weak," Logan stated. "Do not forget that, Khan."

Khan understood that his leader was a very proud person. Because of this, he apologized and no longer said anything.

However, Rasta still had a few more things to say. He had been waiting for his leader to wake up before he discuss this important matter to him.

"Logan, what do you think?" Rasta asked. "Do you think Leone could be... that person?"

The Orc Shaman’s inquiry made Logan frown. He knew what Rasta was talking about—a myth that had been passed down from one generation to the next.

A myth that was tens of thousands of years old, barely surviving through oral relaying and fragmented written texts made by the different monster tribes of the past.

"Are you referring to the Monster Sovereign and his Oathkeepers?" Logan asked for confirmation.

"Yes," Rasta replied. "The power that Brann showed earlier defies ‌natural laws. Perhaps... the legend is true?"

"Are you saying that a weak human child I can easily kill with a flick of my finger is that legendary person?" Logan scoffed. "What nonsense."

Yet, deep inside, the Orc Champion had to admit that after facing Brann, his opinion of Leone had changed.

"Even so, shouldn’t we confirm it?" Rasta lowered his head.

"Confirm?" The frown on Logan’s face deepened. "How? Don’t tell me you want me to become that human’s vassal?"

"You don’t?" Khan blinked. "If you can get stronger, wouldn’t you be able to beat Brann easily?"

The Orc Champion glared at the Orc Warlord in response, making the latter flinch.

"If you want to become strong so badly, how about you become his vassal instead?" Logan sneered.

"I can?" Khan blinked before glancing at Rasta. "Can I?"

"You fool! Shut up for a bit." Rasta lightly tapped the Orc Warlord’s head with his staff before shifting his attention back to Logan. "Can you at least give it some consideration? Because if the legends are true, then our tribe can..."

The Orc Champion raised his hand to stop Rasta from speaking. He already knew what his right-hand man was going to say. No matter what, he simply couldn’t accept becoming someone else’s pawn or subordinate.

Perhaps knowing what his friend was thinking, the Orc Shaman sighed helplessly before shaking his head.

"I’m sorry," Rasta said before turning to walk toward the door. "Since you’re already awake, I’ll finally get some rest as well."

There was no use in continuing this discussion. Perhaps Logan was right. Perhaps he was just making a big deal of what happened earlier.

Khan didn’t want to be left alone with Logan, so he also bade his farewell and left.

When they were a good distance away from the house where Logan was currently staying, the Orc Warlord tapped the shaman’s shoulder to get his attention.

"Um... Can I become Leone’s vassal?" Khan asked. "I want to be strong."

Rasta looked back at the Orc Warlord in irritation. If not for the fact that Khan was stronger than him, he would have already whacked the annoying Orc with his staff until the latter lost consciousness.

Alas, he was weaker and had no choice but to think about it. Rasta paused for a bit as he tried to recall what the legend said about the Monster Sovereign.

After giving it some thought, he once again looked at the Orc Warlord, who only had brawn and no brains.

"I believe there are hidden qualifications you must meet to be accepted as one of Leone’s vassals." Rasta looked up at the Orc Warlord from head to toe. "I don’t know if you are qualified, but if you are, then go ahead. However, remember this. Once you become Leone’s vassal, you’ll be kicked out of the Ravage Tribe."

Khan lowered his head in response, as if deep in thought. The Ravage Tribe was his home, and he had made a promise to protect it.

Rasta knew this as well, but this was a choice Khan had to make. The Orc Warlord could not possibly serve two masters. That was not how the world worked.

"If you are willing to sacrifice our clan for your dreams to become strong, then go ahead," Rasta said before walking away. "No matter what choice you make, I’ll convince Logan no matter what it takes."

Knowing their leader, Logan would just shrug and tell Khan to do whatever he wanted to do.

Truth be told, Rasta was only reaching for the stars. He had been fascinated by the story of the Monster Sovereign since he was young.

There were many variations of this story among the different monster tribes, but they all followed the same root.

Tens of thousands of years ago, before the current kingdoms existed, before powerful nations were born, before the races of the world united against a common enemy...

A calamity had descended from the heavens.

A being of unparalleled might had set foot in their world, and it only had one thing on its mind.

The complete annihilation of all the races in the world.

It was not a Demon Lord.

Nor was it a Devil from the Nine Hells.

It was something far worse.

A being known in ancient records as the World-Destroyer.

With every step it took, the land lost its life, leaving a wasteland where no life could survive.

Because of that, the races of the world united to stop it.

The Humans gathered their greatest champions.

The Elves called upon their ancient kings.

The Dwarves forged mythical weapons capable of great destruction.

The Beastkin offered their strongest warriors.

The Giants marched from their hidden lands.

And the Dragons, strongest among them all, flew in the hundreds to smite this mighty foe. Through their efforts, an army that could crush anything and everything it faced with room to spare was formed.

And yet...

They failed.

Again.

And again.

The World-Destroyer crushed every alliance that stood against it. No power in the world had successfully defied its might. In their despair, everyone prayed to whatever Gods they believed in, but their prayers remained unanswered.

Entire armies were annihilated.

Heroes died one after another.

Hope vanished from the world.

Many believed that the Age of Mortals had come to an end.

But then, a man appeared.

Not a King.

Not a Hero.

Not a Saint.

But a Wanderer.

[A/N: No. It’s not Zion Leventis (AKA Thirteen).]

A man whose name had long been forgotten. A being who had rallied all the monster races when all hope was lost.

The Monster Sovereign.

A messiah of sorts whose name was all but forgotten in this day and age. He rallied all the monster races to fight under his banner.

When the world rejected them, the Monster Sovereign extended his hand.

And the monsters, won over by his sincerity and tenacity, finally accepted him as their king.

One tribe became ten.

Ten became a hundred.

A hundred became a thousand.

Until eventually, countless banners gathered beneath a single cause.

Not for conquest.

Not for glory.

But for survival.

The Monster Sovereign then performed a miracle. Using a Divine Relic gifted by the gods themselves, he granted Champions from every monster race powers beyond mortal understanding.

Orc Warlords gained strength that could rival Demigods.

Goblin Chiefs became Shadow Kings.

Troll Elders became Immortal Guardians.

Ogre Champions became Titans of War.

Each one received blessings tailored to their hearts and convictions. Together, they were known as the Oathkeepers.

The cold wind brushed past Rasta’s face as he finally exited the cave.

He looked at the twinkling stars in the sky, still lost in thought about that ancient story only scholars like him dared to remember.

’I must be getting old,’ Rasta thought. ’Why do I suddenly remember this story from that ancient era?’

It was then that Rasta looked at the ramparts. There, he saw Leone, who seemed to be listening to Fury’s complaints.

The Dire Bear was moving its claws and arms, making exaggerated movements as it explained how its peaceful sleep was ruined by the battle earlier.

Leone patted the Dire Bear’s body in response, as if trying to console it.

Seeing this scene, Rasta suddenly realized something.

Something he had overlooked in the past.

’Leone... could talk to monsters?’ Rasta frowned. ’Come to think of it, I saw him talking to the squirrels and that pig the other day. It doesn’t look like he was just talking to them half-heartedly. It looked like he was conversing with them properly.’

The Orc Shaman placed his hand over his wildly beating heart. He forced himself to calm down because he knew that great expectations could also lead to great disappointment.

Perhaps Logan was right.

Perhaps a human, whom the Orc Champion could easily kill with a flick of his finger, was in no way that legendary figure of long ago.

Even so... despite all that impossibility, Rasta couldn’t shake off this feeling.

After taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Rasta stepped forward.

He moved toward the ramparts, where Leone, Fury, Blitz, Max, and even Arion were huddled together.

Toward the young man who had gathered a small group of monsters and beasts, who seemed to be having a lot of fun under the starry skies.