"Arrogant fool," I muttered under my breath.

He was the former because he thought he stood a chance to win the battle he had thrown himself into alone, and a fool because he left us here, not taking us with him. And it wasn't because he would have had a better chance to defeat the Argyrian patriarch and his stampede with us—I don't think we would have made much difference. Rather, it was because he left us, total nobodies, with one of his most valuable assets: the population he had put to safety inside his domain.

As it stood, if I chose to, I could slaughter all the people of this capital. No one here would be able to stop me.

Just like Cleon the One and Only Emperor can draw resources such as MP, SP, and even HP from those who swore an oath to him, and Seraphims do the same from those who swore a vow of faith to them, an elven monarch can draw similar resources from their subjects—those bearing the title given by them—through their patriarch ancestral tree. Should these title-bearing individuals be gone, he would lose one of his greatest battle assets. Here he was, letting them be enclosed with us.

I had no particular plan on doing that, but when you literally put an easy meal near my mouth, I was tempted to bite it down. While it was still moronic, it would have been a less moronic decision for him to take us all to that battle he flew into. We're still not going to win, but at least he wouldn't have any reason to fear me pulling out what I pulled in the land of men by killing several of my monarch kings.

Is he expecting me to follow him into this battle? I wondered, trying to understand the logic. Or did he grow fond of me and begin to trust me?

I watched the dot the patriarch represented disappear on the horizon, unsure of his motives.

"Sorry to disappoint you today, bud. No battle for us today," I said, casting a glance at Licht to my left.

"Huh?"

"I said there would be no battle for us today."

"No, you said ‘sorry for you’, why?"

"Oh," I said, smiling at him, "You thought you hid it. Look at you," I pointed at his hand clutching the pommel of his sword firmly. Despite his air of seriousness, at heart, he seemed somewhat of a battle monger, barely containing the excitement of a battle ahead.

"I..." he stammered, letting go of his sword.

"No worries, I don't mind that. I've raised enough bloodthirsty and battle-yearning younglings to know that it's a unique quality that you best have than not. Unfortunately, it's not going to be put to use."

"We're not going to fight?"

"Yes, we will observe, until—" I paused, catching something out of the corner of my eye. Flying by fast, but nowhere as fast as the patriarch on his familiar creature, was Aquaflora, atop her broom. The little serpentine monstrosity coiled around her like a scarf, accompanying her throughout the entirety of her journey. She had made a point of concealing it, even though it, just like Veilleuse-19, was allowed into the capital. However, I had chosen to let Veilleuse-19 out of the Umbryan domain, while she chose to keep her living noodle hidden.

"There you two are," she panted as she closed in, out of breath.

"Hi," I greeted the girl we hadn't seen since we invited her to come with us in our roaming early in the morning, only for her to refuse because she'd rather spend her time alone in her room, being a social recluse.

"What are you two doing here?" she asked with a frown.

"Us, we were taking in the view. Now I'm the one to ask, what are you doing here? And why are you so worked up?"

Aquaflora responded, stammering as if not understanding my response, "I...this is him and his stampede heading over here, right?"

"Yep," I nodded indifferently.

"Then..."

I cut in to explain. "The patriarch has already headed over to meet him."

At that moment, Aquaflora looked toward the southern horizon with an uneasy expression. Just how much are you afraid of him, I thought, observing her reaction. But well, I couldn't say I didn't understand; she was one of the first to see the monstrosity of his and his stampede's strength. No surprise that it left a very lasting impression on her.

"You think he's going to be enough?" Aquaflora asked.

"Enough, huh? How about you give your opinion first. Do you think he will be enough?"

Having difficulty admitting it, she shook her head—a sight that would have undoubtedly stirred a negative reaction from any Umbryan that would witness this doubt of their monarch. But well, we're being objective here, and thus I had to agree with her.

"I think the same," I admitted with a shrug.

"Then—"

"Then what?" I cut in again. "I don't know why I've got the impression that you want my adorable little Licht over there, who wants nothing but peace and safety, to do something extreme."

At these words, she seemed even more hesitant to say what she was clearly about to say. "You're not going to help?"

"Nope," I answered.

"You're just gonna watch?"

I nodded. "Observe. Observing, that's what I'm going to do."

At these words, Aquaflora took real offense, clenching her broom as if she were on the verge of dashing off. "Heed my advice, since I see you're about to do something really stupid,"

"I'm not—" she started, only to be cut off again.

"I'm not done," I interjected. "The outcome of this battle is already determined; neither you nor I am going to change any of it. Us interfering might just lead to something unfortunate happening to us. Heck, as much as it pains me to tell you, some of us are going to be a plain burden to him if we somehow manage to survive more than a minute in that battle. My point is that you, Licht, and I'll add myself to the bunch, have no place in a battle between monarchs." It looked like she wanted to complain about this, but she was realistic enough to keep her ramblings in and accept my words as the bitter truth.

"At this point," I explained, "the most positive outcome we're to expect is him making it out alive from that battle, but that's something he would have to do alone. He can't and shouldn't rely on our help. But we can definitely help," I pointed at the horizon he flew into, not particularly at it exactly but rather, I was pointing at the barrier that had shrunk to the inhabited edge of the capital. "To a monarch, there's no more important resource than those bearing the title bestowed by them, to a patriarch, their subject. That's why he left the barrier to protect its people, but I think he's gravely miscalculated the danger of the one he went up against, and more precisely the stampede he is in control of."

Realizing what my point was, she looked back in great concern at the capital where the elven population had gathered up, before asking, taken by panic, "You think they're going to make it here?"

"As strong as the patriarch thinks he is, I don't think he has what it'd take to handle both the stampede and a patriarch of equal strength. He can only handle one. Wanna guess which one he's gonna handle?"

"The patriarch..." she responded.

"What about the barrier he left behind?"

I chuckled. "Do you really think it's going to handle the full stampede?" Without giving her time to answer, I continued, "Well, we can only hope. Until then, the thing that actually makes sense is to do what these battle-ready elves over there are, I assume, doing—holding it at the ready behind the barrier and hoping that nothing breaches it. But should anything breach through, handle it."

"So...you're gonna help?" Aquaflora asked.

"Well," I said, casting a glance at Licht, "You heard that, my friend. It seems our yet-to-be allies might be in need of our help. Guess we have no other choice but to lend a hand. Sorry, I knew we were doing too much, but hopefully, they'll understand our goodwill through that action," I said to Licht, who nodded, playing along in the masquerade.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"Well then," I announced, activating my skill that in an instant made me don my battle gear, much to Aquaflora's surprise. It was her first time seeing this form of mine. "Guess it's time to go hold position along with the others," I declared, summoning my third fastest means of traveling—a flying great sword—upon which I threw myself onto after summoning another for Licht, riding it through the air like a surfer through the waves.

As we arrived at the scene where the "front" was held up, we were met by an impressive amount of battle-capable elves gathered in one place.

In a society like that of the elves, where everyone has access to the system, one might be tempted to think that everyone is a powerhouse in their own right, especially when compared to a society like that of humans, where having access to the system is a privilege that only a portion of the civilization has access to. But actually, no. It is in fact ironically due to the unique nature that allows the society to be as it is that it's not the case. Sure, a large majority of the population has access to stats that make them superior to the average peon, but for the most part, most elves don't make it past level 1-2 in their long, very long lifetime.

The thing about leveling up is that it's not something you can do in a safe environment; one has to be thrust into danger for it to work, which means that leveling is not something they can accomplish by just staying inside their safe barrier. They would have to go out there, fight monsters and risk their life for those sweet experience points.

Just as it is in the Land of men—where most Verdenkind choose peaceful lives over danger and adventure—the same pattern holds true here. Yet, because the Verdenkind are so few compared to the countless Peons, they are practically invisible. People rarely notice them; in fact, the only reliable way to identify a Verdenkind is by their occupation. Most often, they serve as handlers or, more commonly in recent centuries, as adventurers. When they don't occupy these roles, one simply won't notice them.

Here in elven lands, where every individual has access to the system, the majority also favor long, tranquil existences, typically acquiring just a handful of skills and abilities. One of the easiest skills to obtain for elves born into a proper elven family is longevity—an ironic twist, considering how highly esteemed the skill is for humans. Only a small, elite fraction chooses to push themselves, to level up and grow stronger. The proportion of these dedicated few is not unlike the proportion of peon Highbreeds in the human kingdoms.

Now, that entire elite minority was gathered at the southern edge of the capital’s protective barrier. They all stood apprehensively, gazing southward, where everyone could sense the tremors—an earthshake—ominously rolling in their direction.

I was hovering high up in midair with a better view than anyone above my floating sword, with Licht at my right and Aquaflora on her broom on her left. Casting a quick glance down, I caught sight of a silver amidst the rampart of black hair, the envoys from the Argyrians. Catching sight of the glimpse I threw down at them, Aquaflora started, effectively busting me. I gave them a polite smile.

The moment I saw their silver heads here, I had a little concern about a certain thing they could have told the Umbryan patriarch about me, but I was pleasantly surprised to see that they hadn't, most likely because they don't know about me, as proven by the fact that the Umbryan patriarch was surprised to hear that I had a little falling out with the Argyrian family patriarch. Anyway, that's a burden that was off my back when I realized that I was just overthinking things like a fellow dungeon master.

After confirming that, I more or less forgot about their existence as, to be honest, them knowing that thing about me was the only thing I cared about their existence for. I heard that they were still around, waiting for the patriarch to change his mind, kind of like we did, but I never inquired more about it and didn't know what else they were up to until now. But still, I'm surprised they have the gall to show up here considering who's the one to blame for what's going to happen here, I thought, but not voicing it as that might actually affect a certain girl of Argyrian descent. Exchanging a smile, I teased, "You look awfully tense."

Trying not to appear so, she replied, "I'm not awfully tense. I'm reasonably tense. How couldn't I when I see that?" She pointed from their vantage point at the approaching stampede. For most, it looked vague since it was some distance away, but with the evolution of my eagle eyes skill, I saw them clearly: monsters stretched across the landscape like an endless, undulating wave. Dust clouds rose into the air, kicked up by thousands of pounding hooves, claws, and talons, forming a hazy curtain that obscured details but added a sense of dread to the oncoming tide.

Even from this distance, the sound reached them—a low, rhythmic rumble, like distant thunder, punctuated by guttural roars and piercing shrieks. The monsters moved with wild, uncoordinated urgency, some larger beasts shoving smaller ones aside in their frenzied advance, while others darted erratically between the gaps. Their eyes glinted faintly in the waning light, pinpoints of fury or hunger, impossible to distinguish.

The terrain ahead seemed to tremble, the grasslands rippling under the sheer weight of the charge. Trees in their path bent, broke, or disappeared entirely, swallowed by the sheer force of the stampede.

"God..." Aquaflora bit her fist. "There's more than last time."

Of course, there's more. Your patriarch didn't waste any time in the past few months, I thought, but once again, I didn't voice that out.

"Chill out," I reassured her. "This is handleable, more than it would have been if we had to handle the Argyrian patriarch."

"I guess you're making a point," she eased up slightly.

As the stampede was getting closer, so much so that it created a wave of unease among the onlookers and soon-to-be frontliners below, I watched as they rearranged themselves in formation. Yep, formation as the one that can be seen in medieval set movies. At first glance, one might think that such structured tactics would have no place in a world governed by a system where skills, status, and abilities could drastically vary, making traditional formations seem obsolete due to the vast power discrepancies among individuals.

However, the condition of the oncoming confrontation actually fit the specific formation that was put down by the elves present. From the look of it, they smartly spread out in a long wave-like formation along the barrier, clearly intent on abusing its barrier quality to blast any monster that would get stopped by the barrier. And from the look of it in the distance, they weren't going to lack targets for this strategy.

There was enough monster part of this stampede for a ratio where an elf could handle ten at a time. So the question today was really going to be how effective each elf was going to perform against these aberrations outnumbering them ten to one. And we were going to figure that out soon enough as the creatures were upon us—well, to be exact, they were upon the barrier, crashing against its gray fog-like boundary, giving the impression that the monsters were just going to make it through. But no, the barrier surprisingly held well, not even shaking as the monsters, ranging from animalistic monsters to mythical beasts, from scaled creatures to furred ones, bipedal to quadrupedal ones, each crashing with absolute madness onto the barrier. So much so that I have to admit for the first time in my life I was impressed by madness itself.

To think that an authority did that, I mused in wonder.

Because yes, the stampede was the effect of an authority, not something that is manifested by the might of the Argyrian patriarch. It is something that is only possible because the authority he holds makes it possible, as the authority Rule and Overrule, allowing its wielder to instill their will onto a living being, in this case, the monsters that currently make up this stampede.

At such a sight, I finally see what Goblin talked about. This is unarguably the most powerful authority we ever stumbled upon. I better hurry myself to recover that authority, I told myself, watching the elves launch their offense at the stacking monsters.

Working the way it is, as either a perfect barrier or perfect prison, in this case, the former, while monsters couldn't make it in, anything from within could make it out there, including the attacks of all sorts, but mostly magical attack, unleashed by the elves. The formation they put seemed rather effective as corpses piled up beyond the barrier, perishing against the onslaught of elven attacks.

"Oh, they're holding pretty well," I mused out loud at the sight.

"Weren't you going to help?" Aquaflora asked, clearly she would have swooped into the action earlier, but at the sight of us just standing there, she didn't, which only now finally hit her.

"We are, but as much fun as it looks, I don't think that's something I’d like to partake in," I answered. “That however,” I added, pointing into the gigantic trail of dust behind the first wave of monsters—a second, far more ominous surge of monsters.

Behind the already very dust-churning tide of smaller beasts, behemoth-sized creatures loomed, their sheer presence dwarfing the frenzied throng ahead. While far less numerous, their silhouettes painted an even more terrifying picture against the horizon. Each step, each movement, sent tremors through the earth, amplifying the already deafening cacophony of the stampede.

The diversity of these giants was staggering, no two alike. Some trudged on heavy, lumbering legs, their mass breaking the ground beneath them with each step. Others crawled, grotesque limbs clawing at the earth and kicking up debris that swirled into a literal dust storm in their wake. Flying beasts soared overhead, their massive wings stirring gales strong enough to topple trees, their screeches sharp and grating even at this distance.

One behemoth was unmistakably arachnid—a nightmare for any arachnophobe. Its chitinous legs stretched impossibly high, its segmented body glinting ominously in the light, as if armoring a knight of pure terror. Another moved like a reptilian tank, built with a thick hide and a broad, horned snout reminiscent of a triceratops, though its gait was heavier, more deliberate. My familiarity with dragonoids allowed me to recognize it for what it truly was: a drake, a creature like Veilleuse-19's general draconoid species. Trudging together in this direction, the creatures embodied literal chaos, one united with a strangely unified purpose to destroy, just like the first wave, but there was an undeniable difference. These weren’t small fries. These weren’t creatures sent to overwhelm or distract. They were the main event.

In fact, I wouldn’t even be surprised if some of these behemoths were primes—the system’s designation for the strongest monsters in their respective categories. Primes were the monster equivalent of guardians to dungeons, or monarchs to the sentient races. These were creatures that defined their kind, the pinnacle of strength within their category.

At my answer, Aquaflora sank into silence, understanding my point. I flashed her a smile that was both meant to be teasing and reassuring, one that she in her restlessness quickly did her best to ignore.

She's eager and that's a good thing, but I'd say she's not very good at thinking straight under stressful situations. Gotta fix that soon, but well, we can address that later once we're done dealing with the issue at hand...

I was about to make my first move of the battle when very suddenly something from across town caught my full attention in an instant, noticing that Licht asked, "A problem?"

I looked at him, but as our gazes met, his gaze was literally being dragged to the barrier that, out of the blue, experienced a wave of cracks that seemed to emanate from the other side of the capital and spread in an instant, causing the barrier to collapse before everyone's eyes. In an instant, the barrier that had been protecting the capital from the stampede's monsters and holding them back allowed them to instantly spill into the domain a breath earlier protected.

"What the fuck was that?"