Overlord: Welcome the Birth of the King

During this period, it seemed that a considerable number of wild animals were active at night.

As long as they didn't bother him, Lyle couldn't care less.

Today, he had gained a lot of experience, was in a good mood, and had also discovered signs of what seemed to be a goblin settlement in the area.

He planned to investigate further tomorrow.

For some reason, however, Lyle couldn't shake the feeling that he was overlooking something important. But no matter how hard he tried to pinpoint it, he couldn't think of anything he had missed.

The only thing that lingered in his mind was the ogre ambush from a while ago. But since he had wiped out that group, there hadn't been any similar incidents.

A cool night breeze swept through the forest, rustling the lush, green foliage.

Suddenly, Lyle's nose twitched as he caught a faint, familiar scent in the air. At first, he paid it no mind and prepared to continue resting, but he abruptly opened his eyes.

That smell—

Goblins!

Yes, it was the stench of goblins, a foul odor reminiscent of rotting socks that hadn't been washed in decades.

The moment the realization struck, his previously relaxed expression sharpened into one of alertness.

It hit him—this was what he had been overlooking all along. The faint scent that wafted through his campsite every night wasn't from wild animals passing by.

It was goblins.

For the past two weeks, Lyle had grown accustomed to dealing with goblins, to the point where he subconsciously ignored their distinctive odor. But now, he couldn't dismiss the fact that the same scent had been subtly present every single night.

In the pitch-black forest, Lyle wasn't sure what expression was on his face, but he knew it wasn't a pleasant one.

The "wild animals" he had assumed were passing beneath his tree at night weren't animals at all—they were goblins.

While goblins possessed night vision, much like humans, they generally preferred to sleep at night and hunt during the day unless absolutely necessary. In a dense forest environment like this, goblins avoided night hunting altogether.

That could only mean one thing: he was being watched.

"Damn it!"

The realization hit hard. His instincts, dulled by weeks of relative safety, finally screamed at him.

After maxing out his Sword Saint skills, Lyle had become an untouchable force in this region. No monster, not even an ogre, posed a real threat to him unless they attacked in overwhelming numbers.

This sense of security had caused him to lower his guard, allowing the goblins to track him without his notice.

But no—this wasn't ordinary tracking.

Beneath his black cloak, Lyle's eyes narrowed.

Ordinary goblins didn't have the intelligence for such meticulous surveillance.

"Could it be… a mutant goblin?" The thought made Lyle lick his lips in anticipation.

Even if he had let his guard down, he was certain he would have noticed a normal goblin following him.

A scout? A ranger? A druid? A rogue? A hunter?

Some of these goblin classes specialized in tracking and excelled in complex environments like forests. Without detection magic, it was easy to miss them.

This theory helped him calm down. If this goblin belonged to one of those classes, it was skilled, but not invincible.

But what was its purpose?

Lyle frowned.

The goblin wasn't just following him; it seemed to be confirming his location every night, which clearly indicated intent.

He ruled out ogres as the culprits. Their large size and noisy movements made them poorly suited for stealth and tracking.

"This must be a trap," he muttered.

The pattern became clear as he replayed the events of the past few days. The number of goblins he encountered had been unusually low until today when their numbers suddenly spiked.

If he hadn't detected this possible mutant goblin in the shadows, he might've started doubting his luck. But now he realized—it was a deliberate tactic.

With this clarity, Lyle braced himself. He had been lured into a carefully laid snare, and the hunt was about to begin.

Lyle continued to feign ignorance, casually leaning against a tree as if he were asleep.

Now that his stalker had been detected, the roles of "hunter" and "prey" between them were bound to shift.

The moonlight and starlight gradually dimmed.

At dawn, birdsong accompanied the rays of sunlight filtering through the leaves, filling the forest with a gentle melody.

Stretching lazily, Lyle leapt down from the tree. He looked full of energy, refreshed and ready for the day.

Contrary to what one might expect, he hadn't spent the night in anxiety. On the contrary, his sleep had been unusually sound.

The fact that the mutated goblin—or whatever it was—hadn't attacked during the night confirmed something: its strength was clearly inferior to Lyle's. If it had been stronger, it wouldn't have resorted to mere surveillance and stalking.

As usual, Lyle pulled out a piece of rye bread stuffed with cooked pork and started eating it in large bites. With his iron sword resting on his shoulder, he walked onward.

His sharp eyes discreetly scanned his surroundings. As expected, he found nothing unusual.

This observation confirmed one thing—whatever was following him wasn't foolish enough to get too close.

This realization made Lyle abandon the idea of actively searching for the stalker. If his pursuer had the skills he suspected, locating them in this dense forest would be no easy task.

"Let's see the traps you've set for me. I'll be sure to catch you in the process," Lyle thought to himself, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes.

About ten minutes later...

A figure emerged at the spot where Lyle had stood earlier.

The creature had green skin and pointed ears, resembling a goblin, but its size was twice that of a typical goblin.

The differences didn't stop there.

The creature's eyes were not the narrow, feral slits common to goblins. Instead, they were human-like in proportion, with large white sclera and small, dark pupils at the center.

Its cautious and calculating gaze scanned the area.

The creature sniffed the air through its slightly sunken green nose, observing the trampled leaves and broken branches left in Lyle's wake.

After a brief moment of silence, the creature resumed following the trail.

What was astonishing was that as the creature moved, the foliage ahead seemed to part on its own—grass, bushes, even the dense web of intertwined branches. They shifted aside noiselessly, creating a path for the creature to pass.

The process was eerily silent, as though the forest itself conspired with the creature.

Unknowingly, time slipped into noon.

Lyle took a sip from his water flask, glancing at the beams of sunlight piercing through the gaps in the canopy. He narrowed his eyes slightly, savoring the moment.

He had more than just the small flask. During his preparations, he had stocked over sixty five-liter water containers. At an average consumption of two containers a day, he had enough to last a full month.

Water, at least, was not a concern for him.