Reincarnated as a boss tyrant in the game

Soren, utterly exhausted, had just stepped into the imperial palace, covered in dust from his journey. His mind was still occupied with the land reclamation in the Northwest and the numerous unfinished matters.

After entering the palace, he hurried to pay his respects to Gustav.

The atmosphere within Gustav's chambers was somewhat heavy.

Gustav sat on his high seat, his body still showing signs of illness, but the authority in his eyes remained undiminished.

After Soren respectfully greeted him, Gustav looked at his son, his heart filled with complex emotions.

He had both trust in Soren's abilities and helplessness towards the current thorny problem. He then slowly spoke, his tone serious, "The refugee situation has reached a point where it brooks no delay and urgently needs someone to handle it properly. After much consideration, I still feel you are the most suitable."

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Upon hearing this, Soren inwardly groaned. He had just returned from the Northwest and hadn't even had a chance to catch his breath, yet he had to deal with the refugee problem immediately. However, a royal command was not to be disobeyed, so he could only accept it.

At this moment, he was completely unaware of the conspiracy being plotted in secret by the families managing the underground labyrinth. After all, his energy had been focused on the development of the Northwest and the journey back to the imperial capital.

The Saint-ranked experts from those managerial families were now secretly heading towards other underground labyrinths according to their plan. They believed they were acting without anyone noticing, planning to accumulate enough power and then launch a surprise attack on Soren to reclaim what they believed was their due.

Little did they know that Soren was currently preoccupied with the refugee situation, and had no time to pay attention to their movements. A potential crisis was quietly brewing in the shadows, like the oppressive calm before a storm.

Wenders Fortress, like a majestic behemoth, stood quietly at the junction of the Central Provinces and the Southern Border Province. Its tall and sturdy walls, constructed from heavy boulders, were covered with the mottled marks of time, witnessing countless past battles. It had always been the most important barrier to prevent the forces of the Southern Border Province from invading the north.

At this moment, the scene outside the fortress appeared particularly chaotic and tense.

As far as the eye could see, densely packed tents sprung up like bamboo shoots after rain on the vast land. They varied in size and color, huddled together, almost occupying the large open space in front of the fortress.

These tents housed the refugees who had been displaced by the war. There were men, women, old, and young, each with a face full of exhaustion, fear, and helplessness. They had fled their original homes,

believing they could find some shelter under this fortress, but unexpectedly found themselves in another crisis.

Beyond the endless tents, tens of thousands of rebels were pressing in like a dark cloud. They wore various armors, wielded gleaming weapons, and their eyes revealed ferocity and greed, staring covetously at Wenders Fortress and the refugees beneath it.

The chaotic sounds of voices, horses' hooves, and clashing weapons intertwined, filling the air with a chilling atmosphere.

The rebels seemed to be waiting for a suitable opportunity, attempting to break through the fortress's defenses in one fell swoop, seize this strategic location, and then drive straight in to plunder the rich land and resources of the Central Provinces.

The garrison on the fortress was on high alert. They gripped their weapons tightly, vigilantly watching every movement outside the city. Although fine beads of sweat had already seeped out of their foreheads, their eyes revealed determination and unyielding spirit. They secretly vowed to defend this fortress, protect the land and people behind them, and never allow the rebels to step into the Central Provinces, even if it cost them their last breath.

However, facing such a large number of rebels, the pressure on them was indeed great. A great battle seemed imminent, and everyone was on edge, not knowing what the final outcome would be.

When Soren led his renowned and disciplined Royal Guard Knights to Wenders Fortress at lightning speed, the oppressive and tense atmosphere that had enveloped the fortress instantly seemed to be injected with an exhilarating force, and the entire fortress suddenly boiled over.

Therefore, he even omitted the routine greetings with the garrison and directly waved his hand, leading the knights behind him to stride up the city wall.

Standing on the city wall, the strong wind whistled past, causing his robes to flutter. Soren's eyes were like torches, quickly scanning the situation outside the fortress.

At this moment, the commander of the fortress, Dilan Darr, hurriedly stepped forward and respectfully reported to Soren: "Your Highness, after a rough estimate, there are about two hundred thousand refugees outside, and the leader is Tosi Lair, the former governor of the Fiarus region."

Commander Dilan Darr's voice was steady and powerful, but his words also revealed a trace of concern about the current complex situation.

After hearing this, Soren nodded slightly, and his gaze slowly swept towards the chaotic but miserable refugee camp.

Soon, his gaze settled on a middle-aged man. The man was tall and straight, and although he was in this harsh refugee camp, surrounded by dirty, dilapidated tents, he still maintained a neat appearance, exuding a dignified temperament that made him stand out from the crowd at a glance.

Presumably, it was Tosi Lair, as Commander Dilan Darr said.

This middle-aged man, in fact, had been curious when he heard the enthusiastic cheers on the city wall,

and walked out of his tent, subconsciously looking towards the city wall.

Coincidentally, at this moment, Soren's gaze also fell on him, and the two's gazes met in the air, as if an invisible force collided between them. For a moment, the atmosphere became somewhat subtle.

Seeing this, Soren waved his hand to Iton beside him. Iton had been following Soren for a long time and naturally understood, and immediately raised his voice and shouted: "Sir Tosi Lair, His Highness the Crown Prince invites you up to speak."

The voice was full of energy and clearly spread throughout the refugee camp. The surrounding refugees, upon hearing this, cast curious and expectant gazes, wanting to see what would happen next, while Tosi Lair frowned slightly, seemingly thinking about something, and then raised his foot and walked towards the city wall.