Noah stood at the edge of the empire's northern wall, staring at the horizon where thousands of epic-ranked monster carcasses stretched like a dark red carpet. Their blood had dried long ago, but Noah's mind was in turmoil.
He was angry, immensely angry.
He wanted nothing more than to tear the natives apart.
He wanted to crush their clans, break their elders, burn their so-called holy lands, and erase every single one of them who dared look down on his civilization.
But he couldn't do any of that.
Not yet.
He could kill their warriors. He could destroy their armies. But the real problem wasn't them. The real problem was their ancestor-level powerhouses. A civilization became a native civilization once its leader surpassed the mythical realm.
Until now he had faced epic-ranked monsters at best. He had not fought a mythical creature, let alone something beyond that level.
