Overlord: Welcome the Birth of the King

Rustle. Rustle.

Chirp. Hiss. Creak.

Birdsong and insect calls echoed intermittently from the dense jungle.

Thick branches and leaves brushed against the black fur of the Barghest, yet left no trace. Wherever it passed, the foliage quivered, producing faint whispers of movement.

Lyle sat atop the beast's back, one hand loosely gripping the bony chain that served as reins. A wry smile tugged at his lips.

"Finally earning your keep, are you?" he murmured.

"Woof!"

The Barghest's growl had an unmistakable tone of flattery. It subtly adjusted the muscles in its back to make the ride more comfortable for its master.

The forest floor, composed of rotting leaves and tangled underbrush, posed no hindrance to the beast's pace. It moved with the stability of a galloping stallion across solid ground, steadily heading north through the vast expanse of the forest.

Thanks to a steady diet of monster meat—most of which other Barghest wouldn't dare dream of hunting—this once-small creature had grown into a hulking mass. When standing upright, it now reached Lyle's height, and its body had stretched to a formidable two and a half meters.

It could now rival some of the more mature Barghests in size, if not surpass them outright.

Frankly, the entire forest's population of Barghests likely hadn't consumed as much concentrated magical energy as this single beast. Those mighty monsters it devoured weren't exactly low on the food chain.

Still…

Lyle suspected that its rapid growth wasn't just due to diet. The alchemical potions he'd concocted using the blood of the troll chieftain, Guu, might have had something to do with it.

In the name of experimentation, he'd force-fed the poor barghest several vials.

As they pressed farther north, the oppressive gloom of the forest began to lift. The trees gradually parted, and light began to filter through the canopy above. The heavy, suffocating atmosphere gave way to something lighter.

They were leaving the heart of the forest behind.

Lyle's destination lay farther north—beyond the forest's veil.

Still seated comfortably on the spectral hound's back, Lyle summoned his status screen with a thought.

[Status Screen]

Innate Ability: Player

Overall Level: 32

EXP: 122,933 / 70,000

Skill Points: 59

Classes:

Base Class: Genius Lv10 (Warrior subclass…)

Mid-tier: Sword Saint Lv10, Shamanic Adept Lv1

High/Special Tier: Magic Swordsman Lv1, Cursed Knight Lv5, Valkyrie (Longsword) Lv5

[Attributes]

Justice Point (Karma): 51 (Neutral)

HP: 313 (24%)

MP: 128 (10%)

Physical Attack: 313 (24%)

Physical Defense: 248 (19%)

Agility: 213 (16%)

Magical Attack: 158 (12%)

Magical Defense: 188 (14%)

Overall Resistance: 255 (20%)

Special Traits: 230 (18%)

Total Attribute Increase: 167%

---

After harvesting both the Ryraryus region and the domain of the Wise King, Lyle had reaped nearly 190,000 EXP. That final push maxed out his Valkyrie class.

Now, at Level 32, Lyle had officially entered the realm of high-tier adventurers. In human terms? He was hero-class.

"As expected of a special class," Lyle muttered as he reviewed his stats. "The base stat boost is ridiculous."

He gave a casual shrug.

"Still got enough EXP left for another level, but I'm not in a rush to throw it into Magic Swordsman. The stat gain just doesn't compare."

Special classes were on an entirely different plane. Magic Swordsman, while flexible, now felt a little… underwhelming.

A brief inventory check followed.

"Thirty Tier-3 Angel Summoning Scrolls, ten Tier-4s…" he counted under his breath. "The Death Orb's fully charged too."

As the Barghest loped onward, Lyle swayed gently in rhythm, mentally calculating his available resources.

He was adequately equipped for now.

At Level 32, he could already cast Tier-5 Angel Summoning spells (meant for Level 29 to 35), but for most enemies, Tier-4 was more than enough. Tier-5 scrolls also required more than just ingredients—they demanded a higher-level Papermaking skill. Not cost-efficient at the moment.

The situation in Tob Forest had stabilized. He no longer needed to micromanage it.

Ryraryus had solidified its dominance over the forest. The rest was just logistics—overseeing goblin breeding, mainly.

The troll chieftain Guu, along with five ordinary trolls, had been handed over to Ryraryus for supervision. They were invaluable alchemical resources, and Lyle had no intention of letting them die.

If Ryraryus hoped to maintain control of the forest and not have his throne yanked from beneath him—he had every incentive to keep Gu alive and well.

"Using monsters to control monsters. Guess those history lessons weren't entirely useless."

Lyle had no concerns about Ryraryus. The creature was intelligent and pragmatic. The kind that always weighed cost versus gain.

That was precisely why Lyle had chosen him.

Add to that the "threat" of cursed power Lyle had dangled like a sword overhead, and Ryraryus wouldn't dare make a move anytime soon.

His real concern now?

Goblin farming.

"With their reproduction rate, and enough food, I'll have an army in two or three months," he mused. "Manageable timeline."

Raising his head, Lyle narrowed his eyes as light grew stronger ahead. The forest's density thinned; shrubs and undergrowth turned sparse.

"Be alert," he said, patting the hound's neck. "What's ahead may be even more dangerous than Tob Forest."

"Woof," the barghest rumbled, slowing slightly.

Beyond the northern boundary of Tob Forest and south of the Azerlisia Mountains, sprawled a vast expanse: the Great Wetlands.

Fed by the snowmelt from the Azerlisia peaks, countless nameless tributaries converged into clusters of lakes and marshes.

It was largely uncharted, sheltered by the forest's natural barrier—and sparsely visited by humans. Outside the Abelion Hills, it was one of the few remaining wildlands populated heavily by demi-humans.

The trees thinned further. Soon only waist-high grasses and scattered bushes dotted the landscape.

Lyle's gaze sharpened, a mixture of anticipation and vigilance in his eyes.

Tob Forest was, at best, a medium-difficulty region. The Azerlisia Wetlands?

Definitely high-difficulty.

Even Level 30-somethings would be lucky to make it out alive. Many of the beasts here ranked between Level 40 and 50.

Whoosh—

The hound leapt past the final row of trees.

The once-cramped view opened up. Clear blue sky stretched above them, unobstructed by branches. Distant mountains now appeared in full clarity.

"Looks inviting, doesn't it?" Lyle muttered, scanning the marshlands with a glint of excitement.

"Grrrr!"

The hound growled low, its green eyes locking onto something in the distance.

Lyle followed its gaze.

There, standing at the edge of the marsh, was a bizarre creature.

It resembled a rooster, complete with a red crest—but it was the size of a swan. Its body posture stiffened as its crimson eyes landed on the intruders.

Screech!

The first screech was quickly followed by dozens more.

A swarm of creatures burst from the grass, wings flapping furiously as they charged like feathery missiles.

"Well, now," Lyle muttered, eyes gleaming with curiosity. "A chicken-lizard hybrid? Interesting…"