Building A Human Empire By Creating A Clan [EN]: Chapter 18

‘Monkeys.’

“Monkeys.”

A thought shared with my Familiar.

As long as we weren’t too far apart, my Familiar and I could exchange thoughts.

I used this telepathy to guide Calliope, disguised as an Elf.

My vision and hearing were shared with the Griffin’s Familiar.

‘Insignificant monkeys, what purpose brings you to trespass on my territory?’

“Insignificant monkeys, what purpose brings you to trespass on my territory?”

Calliope echoed my thoughts.

Her tone imitated Raeragon, dripping with his unique arrogance.

‘Better than that pointy-eared bastard.’

Raeragon’s arrogance was a boisterous, impudent kind.

A frivolous attitude hard to believe from someone who had lived for a thousand years.

Calliope’s arrogance, in contrast, was a haughty, noble kind.

Perhaps her taciturn nature influenced it.

Quiet, yet with a pressure that intimidated those who heard it.

‘I’d believe she was a real Elf.’

Through the eyes of the hawk, Calliope’s appearance was truly convincing.

An appearance and atmosphere that would make one question who was human even with an Elf standing beside her.

The pointed ears created by illusion magic were seamless, but even without them, it would be so.

I smiled inwardly, watching the Count and his cronies.

They were already dealing with a complicated situation; they wouldn’t dare think she was human upon seeing her.

‘If she were only beautiful, they might suspect. Conversely, if she were only strong, they wouldn’t believe it either. But if she possesses both, they have no choice but to believe.’

A powerful being who single-handedly annihilated dozens of knights.

What reason would such a capable person have to be sent to a frontier village?

Logically, if such a being existed in the Great Plains, they would be a member of another race, not human.

I possess skills that defy that logic, but who would know?

As long as the Count adheres to common sense, he will never see through my deception.

If his level were high, he might have noticed the illusion magic, but even his level is low.

【Lv. 29】

【Lv. 23】

【Lv. 22】

【Lv. 24】

【Lv. 26】

【Lv. 14】

The levels of the six survivors.

Except for one, I spared those with the highest levels among the group.

Because I don’t know what Count Dorin looks like.

I spared those who seemed likely to be the Count.

‘In a world where power is more important than any justification, if you are weak, you will become a fish on the chopping block, unable to even maintain your title. If he is a Count, he must have a high level to maintain his title.’

So, based on the only appearance I know—hair color—and high levels, I thinned out the group.

‘It doesn’t seem like the last one is the Count, though.’

The lowest level among the remaining six, 14.

His low level was matched by his pathetic behavior.

Look at him, sitting and wetting himself, trembling.

The full plate armor he wore was wasted on him.

‘Seeing as they bothered to include such a person in their group, is he perhaps a relative?’

The fact that the armor’s insignia was the same as the man with the highest level supported this conjecture.

‘He might be useful.’

‘What are your orders?’

In response to Calliope’s question, awaiting her next instruction, I checked the expressions of the group.

Not a trace of the confidence they had before the ambush remained.

Each wore a different expression, but all shared a common element: fear.

‘I’ve deceived them properly.’

Their spirits were broken because they were convinced Calliope was an Elf.

Humans in this world have submitted to other races to their very bones, their very souls.

Their state is no different from that of a slave trembling in fear upon meeting their enraged master.

‘To think that such pathetic beings are the rulers of humans, it’s laughable.’

I felt disgust as I conveyed my thoughts.

‘Who is the leader?’

“Who is the leader?”

Even the lines Calliope recited were filled with disgust.

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‘An Elf, why?’

Count John Dorin’s heart pounded as if it would burst.

The confidence that had been so strong it had seemed to pierce the sky before the ambush had crumbled.

The emptiness left by his pride was filled with fear.

Cold sweat ran down his back, and his teeth chattered.

He felt as if blood were draining from a hole somewhere in his body.

He felt so cold that the dirt floor seemed warm, as if his blood had cooled.

That coldness was also caused by the icy eyes looking down at him.

‘Why did an Elf attack me?’

Even with beauty that transcended humanity before his eyes, lust did not stir.

Why an Elf had attacked him—he tried to figure it out, but his mind wouldn’t turn.

Why, why, why, he could only ask himself. He couldn’t think beyond that.

“Who is the leader?”

The Count straightened his bent back and shouted reflexively.

“I, I! I am John Dorin!”

And as he tried to stand, his knees gave way, and he fell on his backside.

A moment of shame rose at his pathetic state, and his earlobes grew hot.

The Count raised his head, imagining the Elf looking at him with contempt.

The Elf’s expression remained unchanged.

Only endlessly cold.

The Count shuddered at the sight.

“So?”

So?

“What are you···”

Before he could ask what she meant, the Elf cut him off.

“Why did you invade my land?”

Invade?

The question the Elf had thrown at him when she first revealed herself.

He had been too surprised at the time and had forgotten it, but he belatedly recalled it as he received the question again.

The Count hurriedly raised both hands and waved them.

“Oh, I think there’s been a misunderstanding!”

The Elf did not react to his vehement explanation.

She sat still in her saddle, looking down only at the Count.

The Count’s gaze met the Elf’s deep blue eyes in the air.

Could blue be so cold? The Count trembled greatly.

“I never intended to invade your land!”

“Do you think I wouldn’t know that?”

“Then, then?”

The Elf was silent again.

Instead, footsteps came from behind her.

Two Elves wearing masks and a human man appeared from behind.

‘A human?’

The Count looked at the man with wide eyes.

Even from a distance, the man was taller and more robust than the Count.

His hair was short and black, and his eyes were as black as his hair.

“Count John Dorin, Lord of Turan.”

The man looked down at the Count and called out his name.

The Count closed his eyes momentarily as the man’s gaze turned to him.

It was only for a moment, and perhaps it was just his imagination, but he saw a brilliant light.

When he opened his eyes, the light had disappeared, but something deep inside his chest ached.

A tickling sensation, different from the one he felt when intimidated by the Elf.

That tickling sensation, or presence, overwhelmed the Elf’s.

However, the Count had no time to realize that.

He dismissed it, thinking that he had seen something strange because he was startled by the Elf.

He forced himself to ignore it and looked up at the man.

“Wh, who are you?”

“Edar, Lord of Ollimose.”

“You’re him?”

The Count opened his mouth.

‘This guy is that brat? But why is he with Elves···’

Suddenly, he recalled what his vassal had told him at the Lord’s manor.

– He said he received permission.

– What permission? From whom?

– From all the other races.

‘That was true?’

No way.

It couldn’t be.

How hard had he worked to have his ownership of the Great Plains recognized?

He had dedicated his entire life to getting here, just to obtain a handful of land.

The owners of this land were other races, but didn’t a garden need a gardener?

The Count wanted to become the gardener himself, to become the one who virtually owned the Great Plains.

And he seemed to be almost successful.

Had all that been in vain?

‘To that rootless bastard?’

Gold flickered before his eyes.

The gold hidden in the Great Plains, gold that only he and the merchant Pinto knew about.

The merchants and nobles who would have to kneel before that mountain of gold flickered before his eyes.

Clench

Jealousy boiled within him.

As his dreams turned into delusions and harsh reality struck, his blood surged.

His body, which had been cowering in fear, straightened up, fueled by jealousy.

‘Give up like this? No. I can’t. I absolutely can’t. That position should be mine.’

But how?

How could he be in that position?

How could he bring down that brat and take his place?

The moment his mind was racing,

“Offspring of the noble tree!”

Everyone’s eyes turned behind the Count.

The Count’s brother, Jeremy, was prostrating himself.

He was trembling, lying face down as if kissing the dirt.

“I beg forgiveness for the great sin committed due to the foolishness of my blood!”

“What?”

The Count opened his mouth and blinked blankly before his face turned red.

“You son of a bitch, what are you doing!”

He shouted and threw the scabbard that had fallen from his waist.

Even though his mind was frozen, he was a noble who was used to political strife.

He couldn’t possibly not know what his brother was saying.

Jeremy intended to make the Count a scapegoat.

‘If I stay still, I’ll die.’

Ignoring his brother’s curses and stones, Jeremy turned his head sharply.

‘He asked who the leader was. That means he asked because he doesn’t know who the Count is.’

Jeremy was a man with a unique intuition.

The reason was that he was weak, timid, and cowardly from birth.

The intuition created by that timidity had always saved Jeremy.

‘Why is he looking for the Count? He’s probably going to kill everyone but the Count.’

The intuition that had saved him until now screamed.

It was the same scream as when his own brother, John Dorin, slaughtered his relatives.

At that time, Jeremy quickly abandoned his family and clung to his brother to survive.

‘If he had any intention of talking, he would have just shown up, not killed everyone and then shown up, right? And why are the only survivors the strongest in the family? It’s obvious that he only spared the humans who are presumed to be the Count!’

The reason why Jeremy, the weakest of the group, was spared was also obvious.

‘The reason I was spared is probably because I look like that idiot.’

He recalled the Elf’s cold gaze as he looked down at his brother.

‘It was a look that didn’t even see us as monkeys. Monkeys are at least alive.’

In other words, that gaze was looking at something dead or about to die.

Jeremy’s heart pounded.

‘I’m sorry for the idiot, but it can’t be helped.’

Even when his own brother slaughtered his relatives, Jeremy quickly clung to his brother to survive.

He had a history of abandoning his brothers to survive once, so why couldn’t he abandon them twice?

There was no remorse in abandoning his brother and begging for his life.

‘And if the idiot dies, I’ll inherit the title.’

Other races do not directly rule human territories inland.

He knew from experience that they only demanded tribute at most.

Jeremy’s lips curled up slightly.

“Punish that foolish one and accept my apology!”

“Shut up! You moronic bastard!”

The Count grabbed the dirt-covered sword and barely managed to get to his feet.

He rushed forward, knowing that he would be sacrificed if he stayed still.

A moron who wore armor but had little combat experience.

He could kill him with one blow, he thought as he took a step.

Thud!

However, the Count collapsed before he could take a few steps.

Just like the demise of his vassals, his helmet burst along with his head.

Thump

Jeremy raised his head slightly when he didn’t hear his brother’s shout, and his eyes met the Count’s corpse.

“Hick···!”

His bladder loosened again, and he finished emptying the little urine he had left.

The Elf opened her mouth as she watched the scene.

“Monkey.”

“Ye, yes!”

“I will entrust Turan to you.”

Turan.

The name of the land ruled by the Dorin County.

Entrusting that land meant the same as recognizing the title of Count.

Jeremy tasted fear and joy at the same time.

“Oh, oh··· Thank you! Thank you!”

Entrusting was a slightly different word than recognizing as the owner.

Jeremy didn’t care at all.

His idiot brother had been treated the same way, and wasn’t that how this world was?

A world ruled by the strong, and humans are the weak.

‘It’s natural for the weak to follow the strong.’

Freedom and liberation from other races are nonsense from those who don’t know reality.

By acknowledging and serving their rule, he gains so much.

Jeremy felt sleepy, perhaps because his lips were loosening and his tension was relieved.

His body leaned forward as if prostrating, and he slammed his head into the dirt floor.

So he didn’t notice that Calliope’s expression as she looked at him was colder than ever.

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