He didn't look at her and answered her question. "Call everyone," he said coldly. "Now. All of them. Immediately."
There was a breath of surprise, but no argument.
"Yes, Supreme One," Sephina bowed.
She and the other Matriasaurs dispersed like disciplined officers, already moving with practiced speed despite their thick tails and colossal stature.
Their claws clicked lightly against the obsidian-black floor as they vanished into the deeper chambers of the Dominion.
Jurra stood in silence.
Not long after, they returned—along with dozens of other high-ranking warbeasts and humanoid forms, all of them adorned in variations of armor that glittered with embedded mana stones.
The Dominion's main command force.
Skywing, the Aerowyvern tactician, landed with a soft thump, folding her glowing wings with elegance.
Bladetail, the Tyrant Executioner, whose tail was adorned with crescent-shaped bone blades, knelt low.
They all stared at Jurra with reverence.
"As expected of Lord Jurra," they echoed.
He nodded once. "Try to step through. All of you."
They did, one after another.
Each time, the same result: an invisible wall stopping them cold.
Jurra's expression didn't change, though inside, he felt the pressure growing. If none of his elites could leave, and only he could, then the weight of exploration—of survival—rested on him alone.
"Bring the weakest."
Heads turned. Even Skywing seemed confused. "The weakest, my Lord?"
"Yes," Jurra said. "The lowest level Warlock Sentinels. I want to test something."
A moment later, they returned with a group of shaky, low-level sentinels. Most looked like humanoid rookies—short staffs, basic leatherwear, trembling eyes.
Jurra gestured. "Try."
They obeyed.
The barrier rejected them too. Not a single one could pass through. No matter how weak or how little they threatened the system, the rules remained absolute.
System Notification:
Attention, Player!
The system has detected an unusual activity within your domain. Several creatures have attempted to exit your territory. However, only level five and below are allowed to get out.
Allow Level Five Creatures to Exit at Will: Grant these beings the ability to leave your domain permanently by paying 1,000,000 Magic Crystals as compensation for this change.
Would you like to purchase this effect? Please confirm your choice.
Jurra stared at the glowing texts.
"No way," he would say.
In the game, this is normal.
They do these to prevent Overlord players or those with large armies from steamrolling everything from the start and leaving no chance for new players, a system was implemented.
Their armies would be locked, and leaders had to gather resources on their own. The larger the army, the more resources required to unlock it.
This was done to maintain balance between new and veteran players.
However, Overlord players like Jurra still had a slight advantage—such as being able to unlock level 30 abilities early.
It was a reward for their past efforts, meant to give them a head start without making them overpowered or insane with frustration.
Jurra turned.
"I'll go alone."
He need to gather resources.
The air shifted instantly.
His subordinates stirred, a wave of protest about to erupt.
"My Lord, that's—"
"Supreme One, please reconsider—!"
"Out there is chaos! Unknown, unbound, untamed—!"
"My Lord Jurra, if anything were to happen—!"
"The hierarchy will collapse—!"
"Our morale—!"
"The Domain itself responds to your presence—!"
Their voices stacked on top of each other, pleading, panicking, each one filled with the kind of emotion he didn't expect from creatures made for war.
Their loyalty felt so real.
Too real.
As if they were more than just NPCs.
As if they truly believed in him.
Jurra raised a hand.
The voices ceased.
"We don't have a choice," he said calmly. "If the barrier prevents all of you from crossing, then I'm the only one who can gather information."
"But Supreme One—"
"I am not going out to die," he interrupted. "I'm going out to understand. And if this world really is what I think it is… then I need to be two steps ahead of everyone. Again."
He paused.
"Besides… I'm not going alone."
Swoosh—!
Ten beams of dark silver light erupted from behind him.
In a heartbeat, the air rippled, mana crystals flared, and ten tall humanoid shapes emerged from a summoning portal beneath the floor.
They were faceless, their helmets smooth and devoid of any openings—just blank, armored visors that reflected the light like mirrors.
Each of them stood at perfect attention.
Their armor wasn't made of steel or iron.
It was made entirely of raw, compressed magic crystals—shaped into interlocking plates of dark silver that pulsed faintly with power.
Their auras were silent but suffocating. Built not for intimidation—but for absolute obedience.
Jurra's elite summon:
The Ten Jurassic Warlock Sentinels.
Constructed in the late-game as his final personal guard unit, once they turn into phantom Fang striders—also known as velociraptors, they'd be immune to mind control, and capable of absorbing mana from defeated enemies to repair themselves, and most of all, they can camouflage.
Jurra looked at his stunned subordinates.
"I will leave now," he said. "Stay behind the barrier. If anything changes, send a signal through the command tower."
He gave one last glance toward the mist-shrouded forest.
Then stepped forward, the ten Sentinels falling in behind him, one after another.
No fear. No hesitation.
He was the Jurassic Overlord.
Although he was worried, he wasn't afraid of something just like this.
…
Right now, Jurra was gazing out over the strange and mysterious terrain that surrounded his dominion.
The wind brushed past him, whispering against his ear like an old friend warning him of something just beyond the mist.
His eyes, cold and narrowed, followed the rolling landscape. From above, his Jurassic Overlord Dominion looked like a massive cluster of interlocking valleys, each layer veiled in mystical fog and pulsing with ancient mana.
The terrain wasn't just beautiful—it was designed for survival.
The small hills around the outer perimeter of the Dominion acted like natural walls, rising and folding like a serpent's coils. But these weren't just ordinary hills.
The deeper into the valleys you ventured, the higher the surrounding terrain grew. It was a hidden fortress, layered like the rings of an arcane labyrinth.
The deeper one entered, the stronger the mana density became. And with that, so too did the strength of the Jurassic Overlord Warlocks who guarded it.
Jurra had spent hundreds of in-game hours designing this place.
Now it stood not just as a fortress in the digital sense, but something living—breathing.
The wind that passed through the hills carried not just air, but information.
The pulses of mana that coiled in and out of the valleys whispered the tiniest shifts in balance.
Anything that entered without permission would be noted.
But still—this was a new world.
Jurra couldn't trust the Dominion to remain hidden just because it always had before. The expansion had changed the rules. It had changed everything.
"I need to scout first and check the situation around my territory, it would be a problem if there are hidden threats around my territory" he muttered.
Then, with a commanding gesture, he spoke to the ten Jurassic Sentinels standing silently around him.
Though they were statuesque—faceless, armored in dark silver—Jurra knew they were listening.
"Deploy across the outer perimeter. Patrol the edge of the Dominion. Move silently. You are to attack anything—anything—you find."
His voice deepened with focus.
"But if it cannot be killed by one attack—only one—you are to return immediately and report to me. Do not engage further. No risks. No curiosity. I repeat…"
He took a breath. His voice became steel.
"If your target survives your initial assault—you come back. I will assess it myself. Do not try to understand it. Do not try to study it. You are no longer in a simulation. This world bites back. You're not allowed to die, not even once."
There was silence.
The kind of silence that came only from soldiers who understood completely.
He is not in the game anymore. The mechanics are real. He needed to be extra careful.
Jurra gave one last nod.
And then, it began.
The ten Jurassic Sentinels started to glow.
Their dark silver armor pulsed as veins of crimson and gold light began to crackle across their limbs.
The ground beneath them rumbled, magic thickening the air like the scent of burning incense.
Their faceless helms split open—not physically, but metaphysically—as though space itself peeled backward.
Their limbs twisted unnaturally, flesh and metal converging.
Warlock glyphs burst into existence across their torsos and swirled into their forming cores.
Black mist exploded from their backs, and with a screeching hum, their forms began to mutate.
One by one, they transformed.
From armored humanoids into sleek, nightmare-beautiful raptors—each one cloaked in black scales streaked with infernal red, volcanic orange, and streaks of bioluminescent yellow.
Their claws were longer than before, their eyes glowing embers of silent intelligence.
Their tails pulsed like whip cords, and their entire bodies shimmered with magic-infused membranes that could bend light around them.
And then—
They vanished.
No sound. No howl. No gust of wind.
Only dust rising faintly where their feet had touched the ground.
They shot across the landscape like shadows made solid, like arrows fired from forgotten gods.
They moved too fast—faster than any beast had a right to.
Jurra stood there for several minutes, arms crossed.
The mana around him buzzed faintly. Nothing yet. No signal. No return.
Just the soft murmur of his Dominion behind him and the eerie quiet of the mists beyond.
Until—
A cry was heard.