Oversseer System: I Shall Recreate This Civilization
Chapter 27: Sarr’s (1)

Chapter 27: Sarr’s (1)

Twelve Years After the Great Diaspora...

Rhaozhekar was a prodigy.

For a twelve-year-old, he had an impressively strong and muscular build. Rumor had it that his powerful arms could lift a horse.

Even without buff magic, he could single-handedly defeat three grown men.

Handsome, powerful, and fearless.

Rhaozhekar grew into someone who wasn’t just respected but also desired by the women of Sarr.

He dreamed of becoming a great general, one who would unite the Union Continent.

His ambitions were inspired by the legendary heroics of Zhaldrekh the Slayer and the grand conquests of Nhaoruk the Conqueror.

But even great names like them had never managed to achieve it.

Rhaozhekar didn’t just want to follow in their footsteps—he wanted to surpass them.

That was why he went to the Guidance Lodge.

A general had to come from intelect background. He needed to master literacy and arithmetic to become a competent high-officer.

It was there that Rhaozhekar met her—and her foolish dream.

"I want to create flying magic, to soar across continents and oceans, and explore the world."

Her name was Zhaenova, and she quickly became the target of everyone’s ridicule at the Lodge.

Her absurd dream was mocked, laughed at, and often used as an excuse to bully her relentlessly.

Rhaozhekar had no intention of helping or tormenting her.

’There’s no point in bullying the weak.’

But over time, he realized Zhaenova wasn’t as weak as she seemed.

Even after being kicked in the stomach and having her face doused in urine, she remained steadfast in her ridiculous dream.

That intrigued him.

So, one day, when five boys cornered Zhaenova again, Rhaozhekar stepped in.

Three of them immediately backed off upon seeing him. The remaining two, unfamiliar with his reputation, stood their ground.

"Trying to play hero, huh? Who do you think you are?"

"The one who’s about to knock out all your teeth."

That evening, those two bullies had to be dragged home—one with a torn lip, the other missing a tooth.

As for Zhaenova, she walked away without even thanking him.

From that day on, whenever someone harassed Zhaenova, Rhaozhekar beat them up.

Until eventually, everyone left her alone.

Then one day, perhaps out of gratitude, Zhaenova approached him with something in her hands.

It was a book.

"A thank-you gift."

And with that, she walked away.

’Weird girl.’

Rhaozhekar flipped through the book. Its cover was made of lambskin, and the faded ink suggested it was ancient.

[Written by The Great Rhaomak]

It was about two hundred pages thick.

Rhaozhekar was never much of a reader, but he finished it in just two nights.

At first, he thought it was a dull history book. But as he read on, he realized it contained military strategies and warfare tactics.

It detailed information gathering, analyzing and predicting enemy movements, and the dos and don’ts of strategic decision-making.

All of it was framed within the conquests of the ancient Tyrannosaurus civilization.

Through the book, Rhaozhekar also discovered an unusual form of magic that allowed long-distance communication—one of the key reasons the Tyrannosaurus had once been so powerful.

The next morning, he went straight to Zhaenova after their lessons.

"Do you have any more like this?"

Not just Zhaenova, but everyone else in class was stunned.

They began to wonder—were the two of them really that close?

Due to the harsh treatment at the Lodge, Zhaenova refused to answer in public and instead invited Rhaozhekar to her home.

It was a tiny straw hut deep in the forest.

"You live here?"

Rhaozhekar was incredulous. It was so cramped that he chose to stand outside rather than squeeze in.

Inside, next to a tarp that seemed to serve as her bed, was a stack of books and aged scrolls.

"Unfortunately, The Great Rhaomak only wrote one book. He died before finishing his second."

"He was killed by the Tyrannosaurus?"

"No, he was murdered by his own son—Zhaldrekh."

Rhaozhekar’s eyes widened.

"Wait, Rhaomak was Zhaldrekh’s father? Zhaldrekh the Slayer?"

"Yep."

"But Zhaldrekh was a divine warrior sent from the heavens to vanquish the demons that walked over the world."

Rhaozhekar couldn’t understand. Was Zhaenova just trying to mock his beliefs?

"If you compare the genealogy of Thauren the First Prophet to the lineage of the High Priests and cross-reference it with Zhaldrekh’s emergence, you’ll find a clear connection. Historically, Thauren’s power was always passed down patrilineally."

"Patri... what?"

"Patrilineal. It means the eldest son inherits the power."

"Oh... like how the current king does it?"

"Exactly. The throne was inherited by his eldest son, Nhuvek, in the year 40 of the Repopulation Era. Nhuvek ruled until the year 70, while Zhaldrekh ’descended’ in the year 100. That leaves a massive time gap. Do you really think we lived without a leader during that period?"

Rhaozhekar stroked his chin. It made sense. But then, his eyes widened in realization.

’Someone ruled before Zhaldrekh... That could only mean—’

"So you’re saying... The Great Rhaomak was actually Makk the Deceiver?"

Even uttering the name felt tainted.

Makk was a vile figure who married his own aunt, revived barbaric tournaments, and sought to drag civilization into ruin.

Because of his heinous crimes, Makk and his followers had long since been condemned to the deepest pits of the Seventh Hell.

’Had I just read and admired the work of a heretic?’

"What the hell did you just give me, you wretched bitch?!"

As Rhaozhekar lunged at her, Zhaenova looked genuinely afraid.

"I-It’s not what you think! The history you’ve read is all wrong!"

"You’re still talking, you bastard?!"

"L-Listen, Rhaomak was lost in his later years, but before that, he was a great leader. Zhaldrekh’s murder of him wasn’t an act of heroism—it was a tragic betrayal!"

The moment Zhaenova called Zhaldrekh a murderer, Rhaozhekar had heard enough.

He had never raised a hand against the weak before, but this time, hitting Zhaenova seemed tempting.

Yet his fist froze mid-air.

He didn’t know why, but for the first time, he—who had never known hesitation—found himself unable to strike.

Instead, he shoved her away.

"Now I understand why everyone avoids you."

Without looking back, he uttered his final words.

"Stay away from me, kaovren."

And just like that, their awkward friendship ended in the coldest way possible.