Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint-Chapter 495: The Spring of Ende (3)

The crowd of pig beastmen marching with protest signs, shouting at the top of their lungs, left the regressor bewildered. First by their sheer number, and then by their actions. After reading the words on the signs, the regressor quickly returned to my side.

“What the hell is that?!”

I responded calmly.

“A peaceful protest.”

“A peaceful protest?”

“Yes. They’re not using weapons, just holding signs and marching while shouting. How much more peaceful can you get?”

“Woof!”

The surrounding people muttered in confusion or discontent, but the situation wasn’t escalating. Since there was no actual conflict, even Azzy seemed at ease.

Only one person, the regressor, wore a troubled expression.

“And why the hell are they doing this now, when the King of Wolves is about to attack?”

“Isn’t that exactly why they’re protesting? If they want to fight against the King of Wolves, it’s better for the city to be free of other disturbances. With Ende in crisis, now is the perfect time.”

“This is unexpected.”

For the regressor, it was nothing short of a baffling situation. Scowling, he scratched the back of his neck and muttered.

“To be honest, we don’t even need them to fight. Aside from Grull, pig beastmen aren’t much use in battle.”

But more allies are always better. Even if they weren’t useful to me now, it was better to keep them from falling into the enemy’s hands.

“But if they cause too much chaos, it’ll be a problem. If something happens, Grull and the other beastmen could be divided. If we handle this poorly and the pig beastmen side with the werewolves, it’ll be a real pain. We need to resolve this.”

With that decision made, the regressor drew Jizan and Tianying and stepped forward. Since I hadn’t been able to read his thoughts right up until he acted, I quickly grabbed his shoulder.

“Whoa, what? What’s wrong?!”

New novel 𝓬hapters are published on ƒreewebɳovel.com.

“What do you mean ‘what’? How exactly do you plan to resolve this?”

“I just have to show them some strength and tell them to back off.”

“You’re going to suppress a peaceful protest with force? That’ll only make the backlash worse!”

The regressor wasn’t entirely unaware of that. He just had a compulsion to resolve the situation somehow. He asked back.

“Then what do we do? Just let them make a scene all day?”

“We’ll promise them benefits, coax them, and send them away for now, even if we plan to betray them later.”

“...Betray them later?”

“Of course. That’s the easiest way to handle this situation. Buy time now and figure out the rest later.”

Pretending to meet the other party’s demands while stalling for time is one of the most basic political maneuvers. The more urgent the situation, the more effective it is.

‘...You say that so openly. So underhanded.’

Underhanded? They’re the underhanded ones! They’re taking Ende’s crisis as an opportunity to take hostages and make demands! Politics is always underhanded!

‘But you’re right. Forcing them down with strength would only create more problems.’

“Fine. Then what’s your plan?”

“Why are you asking me? Obeli is the one who needs to promise them benefits. Shei should go to Obeli and bring back some negotiators.”

“And what about you?”

“Me? Do I have to do something?”

“Of course you do! Don’t act like this isn’t your problem! Fighting the King of Wolves is your job, along with Azzy’s!”

Azzy and I exchanged puzzled glances. Well, he wasn’t wrong, but this was complicated. The city’s political situation was moving regardless of my intentions. To be honest, they weren’t even fighting for me and Azzy’s sake—they were fighting for their own reasons. It just happened to work in my favor.

This is messy. Really messy.

“Alright. I just need to stop this commotion, right?”

“Can you?”

“There are plenty of ways. The problem is choosing the right one.”

I adjusted my collar and pulled my hood down low. A suspicious outfit like this would only be seen as a personal quirk in Ende. As I walked toward the crowd, I waved a hand at the regressor.

“Shei, go to Obeli and bring back some people for negotiations. I’ll handle dispersing the protesters here.”

“Huh? Really? You can do that?”

“You tell me to do it, and then when I say I will, you ask if it’s possible? Are you a hypocrite?”

‘I don’t trust him, but I am curious how he plans to do it. Does the King of Humans really have a solution for this situation?’

It’s not because I’m the King of Humans. I’m just as curious as you are. Will this work, or won’t it?

A march is like a massive current, flowing forward. And alongside that current, a path naturally forms. The Orcma protesters’ march had created a long corridor, with walls of onlookers watching from either side. Whether they were supportive or skeptical, these were the citizens of Ende, watching the beastmen’s protest with interest.

I slipped into that crowd.

A march always has a goal, and that goal is usually somewhere high. Naturally, the destination of the Orcma protesters was Obeli.

“This isn’t about life itself. For pigs, life is the problem!”

“Beastmen are people too!”

“Give us the right to stand with our heads held high!”

The pig beastmen of Orcma marched, screaming as if trying to vent all the frustration they had accumulated over the years. The sea of protest signs swayed, revealing layers of words that had been rewritten over and over. Black and red ink slashed across the boards, each letter screaming of the injustice they had endured.

There were many opinions on whether their demands should be met, but no one could deny the truth of what was written there. Having secured some level of legitimacy, they continued their march under the watchful eyes of Ende’s citizens.

“Commander, what do we do?”

“What do you think? Do they look like they’ll stop?”

“Not at all!”

“Damn it. Fall back for now!”

The security forces, who had been blocking their way, hesitated before withdrawing. Ende’s guards were little more than errand runners, meant to mediate disputes. They lacked both the power and the authority to handle something on this scale.

“We need the Obelisk Soldiers! What happened to the messenger we sent earlier?!”

“Well, most of the Obelisk forces are deployed elsewhere!”

Most of Obeli’s elite soldiers had already left to face Grull and the Beast Faction. With them gone, there was no one left to stop the Orcma protesters.

The march pushed forward toward the hill leading up to Obeli, forcing the security forces to retreat to the outskirts. Just as they were growing desperate, a messenger arrived with good news.

“It’s not the Obelisk, but someone from Obeli has arrived!”

“Who?”

“Duke Erectus, sir!”

“Oh, really?”

Relief spread across the commander’s face.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

A Duke—one of the highest-ranking officials in Obeli, a noble from one of its ruling vassal states. And Duke Erectus wasn’t just any noble; he was the head of the Ember Guild, which controlled the city’s charcoal, coal, and magical forges. He held the city’s wealth in his hands.

If anyone had the power to resolve this situation, it was him. Just knowing that was enough to ease the commander’s anxiety.

“Bring me the loudspeaker! You, go escort the Duke, and you—tell the pigs’ representative that a noble has come to hear them out!”

They spent every day cursing the city’s rulers, but when things spiraled out of their control, they had never been so glad to see one. The commander hurried to greet Duke Erectus.

“No need.”

“...Sir?”

“I said, there’s no need. I didn’t come to listen. I came to settle this.”

But the commander, a mere security officer in Ende, did not understand.

He did not understand what kind of man Duke Erectus was.

Duke Erectus took the loudspeaker without so much as an introduction. He didn’t attempt to draw the crowd’s attention.

He simply spoke. Annoyed.

“What the hell are you complaining about? What do you expect us to do?”

Flanked by his personal Obelisk soldiers and attendants, he stood tall, scowling at the protest signs before him. He read the grievances of the pig beastmen, their demands for dignity and equality, and tilted his head.

“Well written. Seems like you all understand your place quite well. But now you suddenly want to change it?”

The Orcma protesters, too, recognized him. They hadn’t cared about the security forces, but the ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) presence of a noble made them pause. They had expected someone from Obeli to appear, but the fact that it was him—one of the most powerful men in the city—was surprising.

The leader of the march, a pig beastman, stepped forward to speak.

“Duke Erectus! We—”

“I am speaking! Do not interrupt me!”

Duke Erectus had not come to negotiate. He had not come to hear them out.

He had come to crush them.

His voice rang out through the loudspeaker, making sure everyone could hear.

“So what do you expect us to do, huh? You’re too slow to be deliverymen. Should we put you in charge of grooming, with those short, bristly hairs of yours? You’re weaker and less enduring than cattle—so what exactly are you asking for?!”

It was clear he had no intention of listening. But this was still an opportunity—a chance to make Obeli hear the voice of Orcma.

The pig beastman leading the protest took advantage of the brief pause, desperately shouting into the loudspeaker’s break.

“That’s not the issue! It’s not just about that! We are discriminated against in every part of life! Just look at Obeli—there isn’t a single pig beastman among the clan leaders!”

“If you were worthy, one of you would have made it into Obeli! Even if we told him not to come, we would have invited Grull! But you lot? You’re not even close!”

Grull. Again, the only pig beastman ever used to insult his own kind. A source of pride and humiliation all at once.

A few Orcma beastmen snapped, shouting curses, but their scattered voices were drowned in the crowd’s noise.

Duke Erectus sneered, sensing their frustration. He stepped forward, pressing harder.

“At least the other beastmen have something to offer! Your only good quality is that you taste delicious!”

A hush fell over Ende.

The city, once loud and chaotic, turned silent.

It felt as if the entire world had frozen.

A sharp wind momentarily held its breath. And an unthinkable, terrifying realization settled over the crowd.

Ende was a city of beastmen.

Everyone knew it.

Everyone lived it.

And that was exactly why this truth was the one thing never to be spoken aloud.

Duke Erectus had just uttered an unspeakable public taboo.

But he didn’t care. He continued.

“Oh, wait—you don’t even have that anymore, do you? Thanks to the Saintess, who took pity on you wretches and saved you. You should be grateful that even the one thing you were good for is no longer needed! Instead of whining here like brats!”

Be grateful that we no longer have to kill you and eat you.

That was what he meant.

And the leader of the protest, the one who had gathered all this courage to stand up for his kind, shook with fury. His fur bristled, his body trembling with rage.

“You... you heartless—”

“Heartless? You think just saying the word makes it true? I am a recognized noble of Obeli. You are not human!”

Duke Erectus was crude. Harsh. But he wasn’t entirely unreasonable. He had listened—really listened—when dealing with humans like the regressor or Lord Sapien. He had the skills to manage the Ember Guild. He wasn’t stupid.

And yet, when it came to beastmen, he always resorted to violence and insults.

Because, to him—

Beastmen were never human to begin with.

“Heartless? That word is only meant for humans. You mongrels, born from the womb of Mu-hu, are nothing but beasts!”

***

A Long, Long Time Ago...

Once, long ago. A very long time ago.

The Queen of All Nations, Mu-hu Agartha, stood before a pig and contemplated.

Pigs were delicious.

They grew fast, ate anything, and, most importantly, were the most flavorful livestock. Their meat was tender, fatty, and a delicacy in any dish.

Agartha had sampled hundreds of recipes. And each time, she smacked her lips with longing.

Yes, pigs were delicious.

But they were useless.

Now, perhaps no one remembered. But at the very beginning—

Beastmen were never human.

They were simply a slightly improved form of livestock.