The Central Plains is a land different from all others in the known world.

To be fair, each Continent is unique in its topography, type of people within its borders, and even the nature of its leadership.

Take the Northern Continent as an example.

The main force is the Empire, an overarching force that has dominated the entire continent and has spread its influence throughout its borders—well, except No Man's Land.

In simple terms, it is a dictatorship ruled by an iron-handed ruler.

The Central Plains, however, is different from such a centralized system. Having such vast and largely even grounds, devoid of many mountains and wilderness, the Continent has grown to house several small groups who band together to survive.

These groups are known as Tribes.

Tribes dwell on the flatlands of the Central Plains, each marking their own territory. They are each treated as their own small nations, and they constitute the government of this patch of land.

Of course, despite such a free roaming system, there is still an organized power that controls order and supervises the affairs of the Continent.

This force is the strongest tribe of the Central Plains, and it is led by the undisputed most powerful man in the entire Continent.

Everyone knows him as the Great Tribe Chief.

*********

[The Great Northern Tribe]

Within a large dome, one that seems to be made of reinforced dark stone and glass, there exists a central hall where certain individuals are gathered.

This hall is located at the topmost floor of the dome, thus the space is most limited.

Still, there is more than enough room around.

The expanse is beautifully designed, containing various beads and sculptures from all the various tribes of the Central Plains, as well as murals that clearly depict their Great Northern Tribe's glory.

Despite such a sophisticated design, however, the room itself is in a rowdy state.

And why wouldn't it be?

Considering their topic of discussion, no one can blame these people for being so unruly, their voices loudly echoing within the meeting hall of their great tribe.

The only one silent throughout is the Great Tribe Chief.

Rather than speak, he keenly listens to the words of his subjects—the Ministers of the Great Northern Tribe.

He can sense their unease amidst this crisis.

'No, it isn't a crisis yet… but if we don't handle it properly, then…'

The Chief sighs and shakes his head.

In the end, the decision will have to come from him. The position of the Great Northern Tribe influences the entire Central Plains, which means he must be careful about his final choice.

Unlike the Northern Empire, the Central Plains is fractured into many tribes. However, they still hearken to the Great Northern Tribe's commands, making power largely centralized on it—or rather, the Chief.

Even though the Central Plains is similar in structure to the Western Alliance—which is a combination of smaller, independent nations—their style of leadership is more akin to the Northern Empire.

This puts a lot of responsibility on the Great Tribe Chief, who is largely responsible for the wellbeing of so many lives.

If he fails and is revealed to be incompetent, his strength can be challenged and he could be usurped.

This is a difference between the Central Plains and the Northern Empire.

Right now, the discourse has reached a new heights, and the Great Tribe Chief frowns with how much of a commotion his people are making when it comes to a single individual.

A man known by many titles.

He is the Righteous Hero of the Forgotten.

The Liberator of Slaves.

Slayer of the Corrupt.

Terror to the Wicked.

King of Nothing.

Ruler of None.

Chief of the Freedom Fighters!

The Mighty Ebony Giant… Kalakuta!

"We can't afford to go to war with him. I heard he has enough strength to split an entire mountain into two. Do you know how large a mountain is?"

"Weak, ignorant fool! It doesn't matter how strong his individual strength is. He only has tens of thousands of warriors at most. We have an army of over a hundred thousand on standby. If we pool from the members of the other tribes, that number will double, if not triple."

"Exactly! We have over ten times his number, yet you are still scared of conflict!"

"I personally believe we don't need to be too bothered about the matter for now. Why don't we sit back and observe for now?"

"Sit back? You desire to be lazy and careless about such an issue?"

"No, no… Just hear me out!"

"No, you coward!"

"Just listen—"

The Great Tribe Chief sighs and dismisses the many more rebuttals that this so-called cowardly minister has garnered.

To be honest, he has grown deeply interested in what the man has to say.

After all, among his board of ministers, this man is who he considers the shrewdest. He sees things beyond the realm of the ordinary, and while his actions can be considered rather unorthodox, he has the best interests of the Central Plains in his mind.

Thus—

"Speak, Geralt. What do you mean?"

The older-looking minister, with grayish white hair and a broad scar on his right face, nods and smiles with satisfaction.

Finally… The Tribe Chief has come to his aid.

With the Chief behind him, and all other dissenters silenced, he rises to his feet and shares his view with all the others.

"This entire discourse is about how to deal with the Freedom Fighters, isn't it? Ever since Kalakuta and his troops took down the Northern Empire, questions have been raised as to which Continent those brutes will target next. We also know he won't stop at just the Northern Empire, since he has already made a declaration of war against the government of the known world. There's also no point in trying to negotiate with a man like that, so it's true that facing him is inevitable."

"True…" The Chief nods in agreement.

"If you know that, then why do you suggest that we—"

"I have not finished speaking." Geralt glares at the dissenting minister, the intensity of his gaze enough to make the other man break into a cold sweat.

"S-sorry…" He murmurs softly.

Silence falls within the hall for a moment, and great tension takes over.

It feels like the silence might swallow all within this space, taking them to a void of darkness.

Then, a loud sigh breaks the quietude.

Geralt proceeds with his words.

"My point is that we don't need to hurry into a decision. No Man's Land separates the Northern Empire from the Central Plains, and crossing such a dangerous land will whittle down his forces to a dangerous extent. Idn't that why we also decided to abandon the Northern Empire despite our past ambition? Let's not forget that compared to the rest of the Continents, the Northern Empire is actually the weakest."

"True…" The Great Tribe Chief mutters. "So what strategy do you propose?"

"Simple! We wait for Kalakuta to invade either the Eastern Sects or Western Alliance. Then we ally with the one that isn't being invaded to attack the Freedom Fighters."

"Ohhhh!"

Many voices now rise the moment they realize the brilliance of Minister Geralt's plans.

The Freedom Fighters will undoubtedly exhaust themselves when facing the troops of either Continent, so they simply have to take advantage of that opportunity and eliminate them once the fight concludes.

"Not only would we manage to eliminate the Eastern Sects alongside the Freedom Fighters, but the Northern Continent will also be up for grabs. Depending on the strength of the forces we ally with, we can either equally split the spoils of the Continents, or we take the larger share."

"Hmmm. That's a good idea."

The Great Tribe Chief likes Geralt's plan since it provides the Tribe, no, the entire Central Plains, the greatest benefits.

The reality is that both Eastern and Western Continents have reached out to their Tribe in order to foster an alliance.

In fact, their representatives are still present.

'But we've been delaying our responses because we aren't sure how the tides will favor us. But with this plan, we can form superficial relationships with both sides. That way, we'll know which side gets attacked by Kalakuta on time. We'll then abandon them and switch to the other side, allying to take down the Freedom Fighters once they are exhausted."

The Great Tribe Chief licks his lips in excitement.

He can already taste the profit.

It's delicious!

'The resources in our Central Plains are rapidly depleting. Tribes keep growing and consuming resources. At this rate of consumption, we'll only be left with minerals and other inedible resources. We tried to solve this problem all those years ago by invading the Northern Empire, but No Man's Land stopped us…' The Chief sighs briefly before chuckling aloud. 'Who would have expected that the same accursed place that prevented our conquest all those years ago now protects us and will ensure our greatest benefit? Hehe!'

"Great Chief! Noble Ministers!" A frantic voice accompanies a man that suddenly barges into the meeting hall.

He had a frightened expression, though it is difficult to tell if it is due to his impudence in appearing unannounced before the most powerful figures in the Central Plains, or if there are some other reasons.

Sweat covers his face as he falls in reverence to the frowning Great Tribe Chief.

"Why are you here?"

"M-my apologies for interrupting such an important meeting. But the Northern Empire had sent some envoys to us, and they are currently outside the Great Dome of—"

"Silence!" At this point, the ever so calm Chief bursts into a fit of rage. "You would interrupt our gathering for such a thing?"

Other Ministers express more confusion than actual anger. This confusion slowly graduates into mockery.

"Isn't the Empire already lost? To think the Imperial Family still lives…"

"Why did they come here? Don't tell me… they crossed No Man's Land just to seek our assistance? Just how foolish can they be?"

"Keke… How foolish! They've gotten that desperate, huh?"

"Exactly! They have become a desperate bunch! Why should we pay them any mind?" The Chief displays even more annoyance at the situation.

He joins the rest of ministers in their contempt of the fallen Empire, his hardened expression defined by a feeling of superiority.

Only one person remains calm amidst them.

—Minister Geralt.

"They were able to survive the arduous journey of No Man's Land and even crossed the sea to reach our borders. They are also envoys, not a single one, which means there are likely others who remain guarding the Emperor or whoever survived among the Imperial Family. It would be better not to underestimate them until we have full knowledge of their situation."

The Chief wishes to tell Geralt that he is overthinking again, but he chooses not to.

It wouldn't hurt to follow his words and confirm things for themselves—especially since he will get to witness the Northern Empire's humiliation firsthand.

"How many envoys were sent?"

"T-that…"

The guard appears flustered, his face flushed with all manner of undiscernible emotions.

"What? Can't answer properly?"

Upon seeing the displeased expression of his Chief, the man swallows the deep fear that shakes him to the bone and endures his rising anxiety.

Finally gaining the strength to answer clearly, he does so in a hurry.

"F-four! One guard, two Noble Officials, and one of the Princes!"

"Ohh?" The Chief is stunned.

Minister Geralt is even more surprised to hear this. "Are you sure they're envoys, or simply the remainder of the Empire?"

"They claim to be sent by the Emperor, so they are Imperial Envoys who have come to deliver his message."

"I see…" Geralt's brows furrow. "Makes very little sense, but I can understand their audacity. Still, that doesn't explain your urgency. Why would you interrupt such an important gathering for a measly bunch like that?"

"Precisely! I should have you executed!" The Chief's frown deepens as he glares at the measly guard.

"Eeek!" After squeaking for a second, the guard quickly rambles to save his life.

"M-my Lords… please… the envoys didn't come alone. They… they brought… ah, by the heavens… Please just look outside if you don't believe me."

The expressions of the Ministers and the Chief turn confused as they observe the fear in the guard's eyes.

All the warriors of Central Plains, especially those of the Great North Tribe, are considered brave.

Cream of the crops.

The feeble man before them, despite his unsightly appearance, is actually the head guard of their Great Dome.

For him to have gained such status, he is surely no weakling.

Thus, something must be wrong somewhere.

Merely seeing such a competent subordinate express such fright, not towards them, but in regards to a measly group of envoys from a fallen Empire, the Chief and most of the Chiefs are left speechless.

But, one of them steps forward after clicking her tongue.

"Tch! Overreacting as always…" Her eyes narrow as she salaciously moves towards the windows.

Not one person among the ministers doesn't know this woman well.

She is known as the fiercest flower in the Central Plains, as well as the most beautiful… a warrior whose strength is only second to the Chief.

There are even whispers that she exceeds him in ability, but since women cannot rule in the Central Plains, she could only take on the position of Minister.

Also, despite being over thirty years in age, this woman is still a spinster.

In her words, she can only acknowledge a man stronger than her. And in all her life, she had yet to encounter such a person.

"Arghhhhhh!!!"

This same woman shrieks in fright the moment she looks out the window.

She frantically steps away, tripping over herself until she falls to her buttocks. Despite such a shameful display, she shows no signs of embarrassment.

Instead, she is overwhelmed by a sense of dread—an emotion very similar to that of the head guard.

Upon seeing this, the other ministers begin to tremble where they sit.

Even the Chief shows a nervous expression.

This woman—Minister of Combat—had once rejected him when he desired her.

She showed no fear while doing so.

No reverence whatsoever.

He still had not forgotten that humiliation, but he also knew he couldn't pursue the matter due to her strength.

Yet—

'To think something is able to terrify her to this extent…' Without realizing it, the Chief rises to his feet and approaches the window.

Curiosity mixed with fear taints his countenance.

He glances around him and finds that only Geralt is also walking towards the window. The other ministers shrink back in fear, unwilling to be frightened by what lies beyond.

Who can blame them?

Only a thin line separates Fear and Curiosity.

In fact, both are primal emotions.

But because of this, humans are often drawn towards the very thing that terrifies them.

Once the two men reach the border of the room and cast their gaze to the fields beyond, they lose their composure. Despite their best attempts to maintain their cool, the two gasp in deep shock.

After all, what they see defies reason.

Standing in the field is indeed the envoy carriage. It appears to house the three special figure—the Prince and two Noble Officials.

As for the guard, he stands in front of the carriage, arms folded confidently as he smiles.

However, there is something else.

An unbelievable sight.

Beyond imagination and rationality!

Surrounding this envoy group is a horde of monstrous creatures—Magivores.

"M-my goodness…!"

"They're in the hundreds!" The Chief mutters in sheer disbelief.

"Hundreds? Those are at least a thousand!" Geralt responds with a louder voice, his aged eyes bulging violently.

"H-how…?!" The Minister of Combat shivers, her slender yet muscular body unable to withstand the shock.

All of these people simply cannot believe this impossible sight.

One after the other, the other Ministers approach the windows and find themselves experiencing the same set of emotions.

Shock…

… Disbelief…

… And Horror!

Standing amidst all of these creatures, with a bold countenance and a broad smile is a muscular man with a heroic disposition.

Of course… It is none other than Javier.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.