Journey from Overlord

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The hapless administrator was beheaded as a demonstration, and Kuruk began to move into the chief's line of sight.

"This direction is probably the attack route of the Mammoth Tribe."

"The risk of attacking a human fortress is too great. It is best to contact other tribes."

"Stirring up a dispute between the Sphinx and the Janna will help us gain control of the waterhole."

With one accurate suggestion after another, Kuruk's status began to rise. At the same time, he started learning magic from the high priest, and unexpectedly showed great talent for it.

The magic that strengthened his body, combined with his keen sense of smell and hearing, allowed him to move freely even without vision.

Then, this year:

"The amount of food is totally insufficient. If this continues, we may have no choice but to go to war with other tribes and kill each other, or venture into the forest to take risks. There are only two options."

This was the conclusion: simple and cruel. There was not enough food and too many people. This situation occurred every few decades. The result was often the same: the sub-human tribes in the entire region killed each other, reducing their numbers to a level that the land could sustain.

Of course, entering the forest was another option for survival, but it was limited to a few people. The forest was also dangerous. Not only were there ordinary monsters scattered throughout it, but the overlords of the forest would never allow the sub-humans to encroach upon the land to the extent that it affected the ecological balance.

So, venturing into the forest was essentially just a way to reduce the population.

"Cross the forest and attack human villages." Kuruk proposed a third way.

The sub-human sphere of influence had a large border with the nearest human country, the Dragon Kingdom. Half of it bordered the Dark Moon Forest, while the other half was a fortress built by humans.

A few decades ago, attacking human villages through the Moondark Forest was common, but over time, the human villages were either destroyed or moved inland, seeking refuge in the protection of the fortress.

As a result, the benefits of crossing the dangerous forest to invade became increasingly disproportionate to the costs, and gradually no tribe pursued such actions.

However, several decades had passed, which was a generation for humans. It was not impossible that humans had forgotten the scars of the past and returned to the great plains at the edge of the forest, tempted by the promise of land.

Kuruk gambled on this possibility. After receiving the chief's approval, he selected 200 of the tribe's best warriors. He sent his second brother, Wolfs—the second most powerful warrior in the tribe—and his equally outstanding third brother, to lead 30 warriors to explore the way.

This was a huge gamble. If they lost, only half of these warriors might survive. But if they won, they would not only gain delicious humans and their livestock, but also great fame and achievements—enough to ensure that his second brother would secure the position of the next leader!

It was probably with this in mind that the chief sent out Wolfs, who he held high hopes for. Fortunately, Kuruk won the bet and successfully found the defenseless human village!

Livestock, iron tools, wooden tools, fine wine, humans for food, and human girls for trade—such enormous profits were obtained so easily, and Kuruk was overjoyed.

However, Kuruk was extremely worried because he had lost contact with the vanguard led by his second brother, Wolfs. Not only was he concerned about the possibility of the plan failing, but he was also worried about his two beloved brothers.

After considering the possibility that they had encountered the [Holy White Fox Demon] or human adventurers, Kuruk realized that none of these situations would necessarily lead to their complete destruction. Faced with this dilemma, Kuruk decided to move forward.

What happened next went unusually smoothly. They entered the village and plundered it. Everything went so smoothly that Kuruk began to believe that Wolfs and his men had simply found another village and were rushing to plunder it.

'If that's the case, I'll have to give them a good scolding when I get back.' Unconsciously, a smile appeared on Kuruk's lips. First, the food problem was solved, and then he got a lot of human girls. Due to racial hatred and primitive instincts, many people in the sub-human tribe had twisted desires for human girls—both in terms of appetite and another kind of desire.

In a sense, this was a high-quality bargaining chip. Of course, if they were brought back to the tribe, they would inevitably be destroyed by the tribesmen, but as long as a few of them remained alive, it would be enough to make a good deal.

Kuruk was calculating the gains from this operation, already fantasizing about the future, when he would help his brother build a prosperous wolf clan.

However, it often only takes a moment to go from heaven to hell. For the villagers in this village, the arrival of the werewolves marked the moment when hell began, and for the werewolves, hell began at that very moment.

The smell in the air changed. A stronger, more pungent odor than human blood filled Kuruk's nostrils. The screams grew louder in his ears, and Kuruk felt the blood splashing on him.

Originally, he should have been able to react quickly, but the smell of blood and the screams numbed his senses, and the relaxed mood dulled his instincts.

"Brother?" A blurry figure appeared before his eyes. His buzzing brain couldn't process the current situation, and Kuruk called out subconsciously.

"Brother, why are you here..." The sharp blade pierced into his heart, killing him instantly. The opponent left only a hole in his heart, then drew the knife out in an instant. The strong heart muscle contracted by inertia, pumping nearly all the blood out of his body.

There was not even a drop of blood on the tip of Camilla's knife. She did not acknowledge Kuruk's words, nor did she look at him. After ensuring all the werewolves were dead, she returned to Aya.

Kuruk collapsed to the ground, and another figure came into view.

"Mom." Kuruk felt as though he saw his long-dead mother and reached out his hand, but by then, all his blood had drained away.

The werewolf troops were completely destroyed.

The corpses had piled up into a mountain, with the bodies of werewolves and villagers mixed together. Most of the human remains were incomplete.

Blood was spread all over the ground. Gathered in the square were the women and children of the village, as well as a few thin men. Some were not slaughtered by the werewolves yet, while others had been left behind as living food for their return journey.

Even among the survivors, some were missing limbs, and almost everyone was injured, with several girls bearing wounds all over their bodies.

As for the werewolves, they were all dead.

It was too weak, so weak that it was almost boring.

According to Aya's initial assessment, if the werewolves they had encountered were the same as this army, then their estimated level would not exceed 50.

Assuming they were level 50, and considering that they were likely the weakest in the population, the average level of the werewolf army would be around level 70 plus 20 levels.

This was an initial estimate because, according to game rules, the combat power difference between the weakest and strongest copies is generally twenty levels.

It was so weak that it was almost impossible to determine the level.

Aya glanced at the sea of blood and corpses, her face unchanged. Plunder, death, and killing were all part of life's choices. From the perspective of the Mother Goddess, she was surprisingly calm.

Wearing a silver mask that interfered with both vision and cognition, Aya confirmed that the villagers could not correctly recognize her appearance, and then turned her gaze toward where the villagers had gathered.

If they wanted, a tenth-level magic [Salvation] or a ninth-level magic [Rain of Grace] could heal all their injuries—and even their disabilities. For Aya, who held the high-ranking priest title of 'Pope', this was child's play.

She could even cast resurrection magic to revive all the dead villagers, but Aya didn't intend to do that.

The power of killing and the power of saving had different impacts on people. The latter was more ostentatious and prone to complications and risks.

If it had been the fifth-level magic [Resurrection]... No, the effect might have been too strong. Aya had little recollection of magic below the fifth level. She'd likely need to check her skill list to remember it.

There is a limit to how much kindness one can offer. We'll stop here for now. With that in mind, Aya spoke up, "Hello."

"Oh my God!" Before Aya could even finish her improvised words, "I'm a reclusive magician." An old woman fell to her knees.

"Oh God!" Then, one by one, all the villagers behind her knelt on the ground and began to worship Aya.

After being stunned for a moment, Aya silently checked the skill bar and confirmed the passive skills "Faith Guidance," "Faith Aura," and "Pope's Deification." Aya felt her stomach churn...

Camilla, on the other hand, seemed very pleased with the title and happily hugged Aya's arm, rubbing against it.