How to Live as a Tyrant’s Spoiled Brat Chapter 40

How to live as a tyrant’s spoiled brat, episode 39

(39)

“Your Majesty Valen, what on earth could you find there? I, a servant of light, am prepared not to be surprised?”

“Valen. What’s going on there? I feel a strange energy, but why don’t you say something? Don’t just stare blankly at the ceiling.”

Celerazie and Mateos approached me, unaware of my hesitation about whether or not they should show me this.

I raised one hand to stop them, but it was too late.

A giant slab of slime was swallowing up dozens of hapless victims, and among them was a college student hanging like a spider on a thread.

A college student dressed in black priestly robes was manipulating tentacles of slime-like vomit, scooping up the filth floating down the sewer and using it as nutrients to keep the victims alive.

Sereraji’s expression became complicated at this insulting sight, and Mateos sat down on the spot.

“I had hoped for a moment that I might be able to return with some research specimens, but it won’t be so easy.”

Sereraji muttered weakly, and Mateos shed tears.

“Oh my god.”

I looked at him silently.

It was a sight that made even I, who had seen everything, stiffen up, but it was obvious that if I panicked too, my morale would hit rock bottom.

There has always been a need for people who are cool-headed, or at least can pretend to be.

“What did those young servants do wrong? Why did they fall into the hands of those evil beings and suffer such humiliation?”

I lifted him up and said,

“Are you ready to be surprised?”

The reaction was strangely unfamiliar, different from before the regression.

The Black Saint Matteos I know was a devout priest who would shout, “Burn them all. The Lord will choose them!” when he saw such things.

I said what I had to say, reluctantly.

“Sister. What kind of place is this in terms of the magic circle defense?”

Sereraji, who had been absent-minded for a moment, raised his head and said, “Ah.”

“If my calculations are correct, this is where the offerings are stored.”

“Is the place where the sacrifices are gathered the center?”

“It depends on the purpose of the sacrifice, but these guys’ purpose is closer to summoning or praying than praising. In that case, it’s the opposite. It’s the outskirts.”

Mateos asked with a sigh.

“Does this mean there’s more to this?”

“Yes. There will be at least four more, and up to sixteen more.”

Sereraji said, clutching his cane tightly.

Mateos looked back at me.

Her kind brown eyes were filled with fear and righteous anger.

“Your Majesty, would you please burn that mass of injustice and give peace to my slain friend and those poor lambs?”

Unfortunately, I could only shake my head.

“no.”

“yes?!”

“Why? Why can’t I just support you with lightning?”

Even Sereraji looked back at me with surprised eyes.

I continued speaking calmly.

“Let’s say here that my older sister breaks it. If all the wealth they have worked so hard to accumulate disappears, will the plunderers simply give up, or will they try to collect their wealth again?”

There are times in this world when good intentions lead to terrible consequences.

It was maddening and disconcerting for the person responsible for the consequences, in that unlike when something done with bad intentions brings about dire consequences, the person who caused it could not even be severely reprimanded.

“ah.”

“Oh my God. So, I have to turn back and leave this horrible tragedy behind?”

I nodded resolutely, as if declaring the eternal truth.

“It’s not like we can even destroy them all. We don’t know how big the magic circle using this wide underground waterway is. There’s a high chance that the eroders who think they’re under attack will either hide in deeper areas or go wild. Neither of those outcomes is very good.”

“I was not taught to turn a blind eye to the injustice before my eyes.”

Also, I had to correct one thing this college student said.

“Is that your friend Dismas hanging over there?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. That’s right. He was not a friend who deserved to die like this. He was a friend who loved children, was full of a heart to serve the poor and suffering women, and lived a life of doctrine. He did volunteer work here every week.”

Mateos answered in a voice that seemed to be holding back tears.

I sighed at that desperate friendship and said, squeezing my eyes shut.

“That guy wasn’t a sacrifice.”

“yes?”

It took Mateos a few more seconds to understand what he meant.

“Then, surely… … No. Even if you were to tell me to be your Highness, you cannot say such things to a seminarian.”

“Your friend is the one who becomes one with the slime and keeps those sacrifices from dying. Dismas is corrupted and corrupted.”

“… … ”

Mateos was speechless.

I asked with an ominous feeling.

“You know you can’t turn back, right?”

Please say so.

“That can’t be true.”

* * *

Dismas opened his closed eyes as he listened to the argument unfolding before his eyes.

With a slurp, the slime tentacle that had entered his spinal cord withdrew, and his senses were once again limited to being attached to a human body.

Slime’s sensory organs were different from those of humans and were not suited to hearing and analyzing human speech.

“God would never have forsaken him. He will surely help him.”

“Stop being so stubborn. I know because I tried it, if it can’t be done, it can’t be done.”

“Why does the wizard only say ‘no, no’?”

“Why does a seminarian only talk like a wizard at times like this!”

Dismas began to focus on what the three could do rather than what they had come to do.

“ah.”

The white-haired man and the wizard both had quite a bit of mana, and his friend had more grace than when he last saw him.

Can I fight and defeat them all and make them sacrifices?

The question crossed my mind for a moment.

The answer was that it could be done.

He met a new god, gained new faith, and gained powers incomparable to those of the past.

It was a long and vain time.

The church raised a child with nothing to become a seminarian.

The young man who became a seminarian wanted to repay the favor he had received.

This world was an agricultural society, occupations other than farming did not exceed 1%, land near the capital was limited, and naturally, the capital was overflowing with landless people.

The seminarian returned to his hometown.

To the darkest streets of the slums.

“Yes, priest.”

“I am not a priest yet.”

He built trust by sweeping away the sick with the grace of light and providing free treatment to those injured in fights between thugs of the poor.

“If it’s okay with you, how about you stop using the knife? You’re not going to fight me because I’m going to heal you anyway, are you?”

“You have to fight to eat and live… … .”

“I can’t burden you any further, Mr. Dismas.”

He used his status as a seminarian to raise funds from rich people outside the slums.

“Teacher, could you please take a look at my son?”

“Why don’t you go to church?”

“I’m ashamed to say this, but it’s a curse from God and I can’t see it from outside.”

“Please take care of my daughter too.”

He cured rare skin diseases that were easily rumored to be related to erosion, and diseases that were easily mistaken for venereal diseases, the price of promiscuity.

“I heard you’ve been taking a break from school and doing weird things these days.”

The crowd that had been wandering around came and said.

“Huh, huh?”

“Let’s get involved in that weird shit.”

We want to join too.

In this world, God is not something to be believed in, but something to be known.

All the seminarians who received the grace of light exercised the power of healing and purification.

At school, we were told until our ears bled that we should treasure this power, that it should not be displayed carelessly, and that it should only be used for believers who truly converted to the light.

But to young college students who were burning with a sense of mission because they had been chosen, those words were nothing more than a boring nagging.

They wanted to run and reach out to all the poor, suffering, and struggling people in this world.

A relief center run by the volunteers of seminarians was created in the slums.

Even the organizations that carried out contract killings and the leaders of opposing gangs were just patients or believers there.

There were fewer fights, fewer infections, and fewer bugs.

Murders and infant mortality rates in the slums surrounding the relief center have plummeted.

“There is a nice street to live in.”

“They cured the sick and gave us food to eat.”

The poor began to flock there.

The slum population has grown rapidly.

When many people share limited resources, problems are bound to arise.

If it had been like this, a fight would have broken out a long time ago and the poor people would have dispersed again.

“Share. Even the grain of wheat must be shared.”

But everyone knew the hard work of the seminarians.

Rather than exploding upward, the pent-up discontent spread sideways.

Crimes such as extortion, begging, pickpocketing, theft, robbery and assault have increased 50-fold near slums.

“crazy.”

The superintendent in charge of the area was terrified and called together the children of the capital’s nobles to sell them human-hunting licenses.

“Oh.”

“It’s been a while.”

“This is my chance to show my bravery!”

All the noble scoundrels who flew and crawled in the capital gathered together, and under the escort of knights, they set fire to the ground, shot arrows, and swung swords.

The seminarians muttered in despair as they watched the relief center burn down and the poor die.

“What did we do wrong?”

They returned to school and knelt before the professor.

“……professor.”

The professor said with a kind smile.

“Go back to class. I think you’ll have learned a lot.”

Dismas followed his colleagues in silence, gritting his teeth.

I couldn’t stand this absurdity.

Why is goodwill not repaid?

In the face of light, all are equal, so why did so many people have to die so worthlessly and cruelly?

He tried to find the answer to that question on his own.

I remembered the feeling I had when I empowered the people in the slums.

That feeling of being a savior.

The god of this world is not something to be believed in, but something to be known.

The literally chosen seminarians will look upon you with great arrogance the moment they deviate even slightly.

‘Only I can help them.’

The old things come to those who doubt the light, are intoxicated by their own power, and furthermore, believe without doubt that it is moving.

Those who want the ‘power to change the world for the better’ will instantly become those who want the ‘power to change the world’, and further, those who want ‘power’.

It was only a matter of time before the seminarian, who had been so devout that he went alone to the dangerous slums to serve, was consumed by the old ways.

Chul-poo-duk! Chul-poo-duk! Chul-poo-duk!

After a brief reminiscence, Dismas sent away the empty bodies, amazed at their newfound power.

Those who were not even suitable for sacrifice or who were badly injured when brought in were turned into nutrients or undead.

Bringing a lion back to life was a wish of countless humans, and to the ancients, the ability to animate corpses was a fundamental power.

Humans agreed to call them undead.

“It’s not going to end well, Sister. Just give up.”

Pfft pfft pfft!

‘uh?’

And as he watched the blue lightning illuminating the darkness, Dismas thought he had chosen the wrong opponent.

* * *

When an undead corpse is struck by electricity, its nerves and muscles burn, and the old energy within it returns to its owner or disperses.

I swung my sword, watching as black smoke returned to the slime or dissolved into the air.

Chook-!

The decapitated body fell into the canal.

Mateos still looked at Dismas with an expression of disbelief.

“… … I was shocked too. A person shouldn’t die so worthlessly. I was worried too. Why did something like that happen? I was resentful too. That police chief, the young nobles, and me who couldn’t do anything. But why are you there? What on earth did you choose?”

I spoke to Mateos in a low voice.

“Why don’t you either write the spell or step back? If possible, do both.”

He seemed like a completely different person from the Mateos I knew.

Although he was much younger and much older, he still had expectations and goodwill towards the people of the world.

Only time will tell whether this is good for the royal family or not.

“Isn’t this… … wrong?”

I saw his eyes half dilated.

It meant that I wasn’t in a state where I could think.

It was the same with Sereraji.

She was only interested in frying the approaching corpses, her blue and yellow eyes flashing.

Both reactions were perfectly normal.

A normal reaction to seeing dozens of people for the first time, squirming in a vomit-colored slime like fish caught in a net.

I was like that too.

“Ugh.”

The natural disgust we have as humans and the sympathy we feel for the victims.

But I’m not the kind of person who can just take care of my feelings when something happens.

I looked around first to make sure there weren’t any other eroders in sight.

Since the battle with one entity has already begun, my comrades must have felt something as well.

“Kill Dismas and retreat. May the unfortunate rest in peace.”

The future saint asked firmly as if it were his last, with eyes desperate as if he was grasping at even a shred of hope.

“Can’t it be purified?”

I said with a bitter laugh.

I had to help him break up.

Memories of the eroder only brought about more erosion.

“Does the Light only give strength to those who truly believe?”

“yes.”

“Do you think the old ones will be different?”

“!”

Swish, then a long, spear-like tentacle sprouted from the slime.

“shit!”

I pushed Mateos aside with all my might.

It was impossible to allow the saint who would save the world five times in the future to suffer even one fatal injury.

Phew!

“majesty!”

Ah, how foolish of me it is to forget for a moment that it’s just slime in appearance.

I smiled bitterly as blood flowed from my pierced thigh.

Clank, clank, I hear footsteps approaching from far away.

I was used to the undead’s characteristic gait.

Those were definitely not the footsteps of living things.

“Valentine!”

Phage, phage, phage!

Sereraji radiated lightning, burning the tentacles.

I said, holding onto the luminous moss-covered wall to steady myself.

“Change of strategy. We are retreating immediately. We have found the encroacher, so the Black Iron Knights will take care of everything now.”

“……yes.”

“okay.”

Mateos skillfully supported me.

He seemed to have experience in helping many poor and injured people.

Sereraji, who was emitting lightning from the rear, shouted sharply.

“Valentine. It’s an abomination!”

fu*k.

I answered with a sigh.

“Run until you die! I don’t know who’s controlling it, but you have to get out there and blend in with the crowd!”

* * *

The entrance stairs I had come through were visible ahead of me.

Because we heard the Abomination’s footsteps so quickly, and because the passage through the underground water was too narrow for the Abomination, we had plenty of time to escape.

That was until Mateos suddenly stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

“Matheus?”

“If we run away, they will follow, right?”

“yes.”

“Then what happens to the people in the middle? What happens to the unlucky child who came out holding his or her parent’s hand and ran into that monster?”

I shut my eyes tightly, feeling miserable.

It has always been embarrassing and difficult to face these questions head on.