Chapter 27: Being Human, I Am Honored

How does one deal with injustice and unfairness?

"Kill."

"When someone is about to devour you, do you still intend to reason with them?"

"My life is already a wreck; why not fight those bastards to the death?"

After spending an entire night guarding the withered corpse of his younger brother, these were the only conclusions Chef Demon could reach. And so, clutching two butcher knives, he walked into the Bone-Crusher Gang, who were still forcibly collecting funeral fees.

"To live like a human being, you cannot rely on others; you must rely only on yourself..."

He had changed completely. Even at this moment, everyone still underestimated this hulking, seemingly simple-minded "cook." While Rien was lost in the gentle embrace of the "Shura Field" (a vast misunderstanding), the storm in the neighboring docklands only intensified.

Rien could be suspended, but what about that simple, towering Pigman? Rien’s assessment was not wrong; there was a fire within the Pigman, and once ignited, it could never be extinguished. Or, to put it another way, from the moment he raised his butcher knives and took that first step, he could not stop—unless it was by death.

Since Rien had struck the spark and Demon had followed, the whirlwind of slaughter had never ceased. Today was merely another beginning.

"Brothers, we all know the truth: we’re just a bunch of shit..."

Looking at the dozen brothers of the Bone-Crusher Gang below, along with the fifty or so newly recruited gang members, Demon, wielding his heavy blades, felt a weariness in his thick, resonant voice, laced with deep self-mockery.

"...The local merchants look down on us, ordinary people loathe us, and the bosses of those big organizations treat us like toilet paper. They call us 'brothers' when they need us in a pinch, but once they're done, they find us filthy and disgusting."

"Heh, the saddest part is that we look down on ourselves. Ask yourselves, do you really respect the scumbag brothers standing next to you?"

The trash below looked at each other, not understanding what their new boss was talking about. Demon shook his head; he knew he was casting pearls before swine, speaking nonsense. But he wanted to say these things, just this once.

"I won't waste any more breath. If you trust me, follow me, learn from me, and I can make you gain respect. Real, heartfelt respect... If you don't understand, fine. Just remember this: just charge when I tell you to."

"Follow me, and I will lead you to fortune. I promise you will live like human beings!"

In the end, after a roar, did the morale soar? No, there was still only a sparse, scattered response. These people had eaten plenty of empty promises from other bosses, but at the very least, a seed had been sown. He was perhaps different from the other bosses; he seemed to want to change something.

As for the others in the docklands and the other factions, he was not so vulgar.

"You are all my neighbors, my brothers and sisters... I won't speak nonsense. I know you're currently paying ten silver per shop in protection fees; I only want half. The same goes for other trades. Once I grow, I will keep my subordinates in check, with dedicated people assigned to collect fees so there won't be double-dipping."

That was what he told the surrounding shops and merchants.

"I met a kind-hearted employer who says she is willing to open a seafood processing plant in the docklands. It will provide many job opportunities, and she might even get us a few ships to run a fishery... I don't need you to do anything. Many of your children are in other gangs; tell them I'm short on people. Do they want to be decent folk? There is an opportunity here."

He had no way of knowing any "kind-hearted employer"; it was just something Rien had mentioned—a plan to set up a few factories here and see if he could squeeze some funding from a noble lady...

"It may be a lie now, but I believe in Rien... Even if it is a lie, I will make it come true."

Demon, who saw this period as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, was the true gambler and opportunist. He believed in the heroic soul, he believed in Rien... perhaps only because in belief, there is hope, and the possibility of changing everything.

News travels fast in the neighborhood. Many deserters and informants appeared from other small gangs... but the majority remained observers. And that was enough; it was enough to make his name resound.

"Demon has a big boss behind him, planning to do some real work here."

"Really? Would anyone look at this rotten land?"

"But Demon has that Paladin backing him. With a Paladin’s support, isn't it possible some noble would be willing to invest?"

Not many truly believed Demon's words, but quite a few were skeptical. They were all scumbags, trash rolling in the mud, but someone pointing out a different path naturally drew more eyes. And in this rotten land, visibility was authority and prestige—it was the hard currency that attracted more followers.

To the other big bosses—those whose strength he could not yet match, and who had started to grow wary of him due to his rapid expansion—he said:

"That’s all just propaganda. I'm just trying to grab a piece of territory to survive. I won't conflict with you; I couldn't win anyway... You don't believe me? Let me be blunt: I plan to open a medical clinic, a school, and a martial arts hall here. These are things we lack but need. I have some connections—you know I have a good relationship with the Paladin, right? He said he supports me in doing something legitimate."

Previously, when Demon had seemingly casually asked where the docklands could begin to change... after much deliberation, Rien had proposed these three things. Rien had even thought of the excuse to convince the other bosses.

"The women in your yards burn out quickly; it's a pity to just toss them away when they get sick... My cheap clinic can at least keep them working longer. The scumbags now are so weak, probably because there isn't a decent martial arts hall in the docklands. The school is even more practical... Don't you have sons and daughters? Do you want them to be nothing but scumbags for the rest of their lives like you?"

These things weren't entirely absent from the docklands, but because they weren't profitable, they were disorganized and chaotic. If someone could integrate them and make them more proper, it wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing for the other bosses.

The bosses were tempted... it didn't sound half bad. As long as you don't touch my territory, if these industries exist, it benefits us too.

And so, he cleared the most difficult hurdle.

"Double the tribute." That is what he told certain people at the police station. It was direct, almost insulting, but it worked and was effective.

"If I get things running, you can earn more too." That is what he told the representatives of the kingdom's grassroots civil servants—the tax collectors and magistrates. "Besides, with fewer small-fry gangs, it'll be easier for you to collect taxes and maintain order."

After making promises and telling lies, he began to deliver.

He roared. He bellowed. He fought. He charged. He shouted the words from the depths of his heart...

"Follow me and kill! I will lead you to live like human beings!"

At some point, this sentence became a slogan.

What did he mean by "living like a human being"? No one knew, but he was truly unafraid to kill. His bloody butcher knives had long since shattered, replaced now by ones made of hardened steel. He still carried two great cleavers, his massive frame as turbulent as a storm, moving from one slaughterhouse to another death match.

It was a quagmire that transcendent beings looked down upon, a brawl in a slum alley, yet he was content to sink into it.

One slash, then another. Each slash was more ruthless, each faster than the last. Invisible power reinforced his body; his will transformed into a solid defense. Blood congealed on him, and a faint golden light covered his frame. The Oath-Keeper was fighting for others.

"...Live like a human being."

"Live like a human being!"

No one truly understood what he was roaring about, but they subconsciously roared along with him. A faint red light began to cover each voice, and anger boiled in their hearts. And so, they moved faster, their strength grew, and their blades became sharper.

[Heart-Soul Awakened.]

[Heart-Soul Skill: To Be Human, I Am Honored (Origin Stone): Let out a loud roar, imbuing the roar with the obsession of your soul, and use that anger to strengthen your flesh and weapons.]

[Note: Within the range of your roar, those who identify with your philosophy will receive a degree of enhancement. Your roar will also transmit your will.]

What next? Just keep killing.

Clear out one street, and that's one street cleared. If a few dozen people can live a bit cleaner, then that's a few dozen. This world is too dirty; only by washing it in blood can one survive.

Roars echoed through the streets, and more and more figures clutching twin blades stepped into the mire. His will, accompanied by the fluctuations of his heart-soul, began to be transmitted. Perhaps, someone really did understand what he was shouting.

The insane slaughter brought a rapid rise in his status, and the "word of mouth" in the surroundings further enhanced his prestige. Soon, Demon entered the view of the true uncrowned king of the docklands (the slave market).

Perhaps he should prepare a grand gift and go pay his respects...

And late tonight, both he and the district he sought to change would welcome the miraculous moment that would alter their fates forever.

"I have an ally who should be able to provide security for the industries in the docklands..." And Rien himself was still busy selling his plan to his financier.