Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint-Chapter 256: The Country of Steel and the Faceless Men (5)

Just before entering the control room in the depths of the refinery, the Regressor and Historia still hadn’t reached a conclusion.

Anyone else in their position would have faced similar dilemmas.

The Regressor repeated the same lines she had recited countless times before.

"Killing everyone indiscriminately isn't the solution!"

Historia retorted in a similar tone.

"There's no other way. Why? can't you kill a defenseless enemy? Do they have to stand up and duel you before you can kill them? Are you trying to play knight?"

"That’s not what I meant! They’re bound to be executed anyway. But, if we wipe out the alchemic steel refinery, innocent people will end up being caught later on to fill the gap!"

"Are you a prophet now? Did you come back after seeing the future?"

"Ye- I mean no! It’s just that such a simplistic method won't solve anything!"

It was an argument that wouldn’t end because it didn’t lead to a fight.

Before a problem with no clear justice or answer, the two argued without reaching an easy conclusion.

'Kerapald' pointed towards the iron door at the end of the long corridor in a fluster.

"There, that's the control room, but..."

Shiati pulled 'Kerapald' back, preventing him from getting between the two growling figures.

"Kerapald. Step back for now."

"This doesn’t seem like a place for me to intervene. What should I do? Should the Princess have been here?"

"Even if she were here, it wouldn't make much difference. These two don't take orders from the Princess."

"This is troublesome."

‘Kerapald’ wore a troubled face but smiled inwardly.

The alchemic steel refinery was a facility so gruesome that even soldiers of the Military State found it horrifying.

The fact that those who moved with chains through the corridors were considered as ‘relatively good treatment’ suggested the extent of its horror.

In the next building, what they saw were prisoners screaming in tiny cages.

Their left arms extended outwards, fitted with bio-receptors equipped with funnels.

Molten Alchemic Steel dripped onto the funnels.

Although it fell in droplets, the sound was as dull as a stone hitting the ground.

The molten steel spread through their bodies, absorbing mana, circling around, and returning to the bio-receptors.

A lump of steel would then form on their wrists.

The prisoners had to quickly remove it to survive, lest the increasing weight break their arms.

The steel then traveled along the rails to somewhere else.

This process was mechanically repeated until the end of their work shift.

"Hey! Help me! Please, I'll do anything!"

"P-Please, release me! I promise I'll never commit any crimes again! I'll live a good life!"

Their pleas for help were ignored by the undecided party, and as they passed by, the pleas turned into curses.

The Regressor and Historia, leaving that hell behind, finally reached the control room.

They were not so weak as to be mentally scarred by such a sight. fгeewebnovёl.com

However, it did give them plenty to ponder.

"Besides, these people have already paid for their crimes once. Killing them here arbitrarily feels wrong."

"You sure do need all sorts of reasons to commit terrorism against the Military State. I can't even imagine how much Huey suffered listening to your nonsense."

"Why are you bringing him up all of a sudden? It has nothing to do with this!"

Did they know?

That all the sights they saw were cleverly designed by Zigrund, who was posing as 'Kerapald'?

He silently observed their reactions.

Reading their emotions without directly looking at them was his specialty.

After distinguishing between positive and negative reactions, he would adjust the route whenever one side's reaction weakened.

In the end, their opinions would be entirely divided, leading to conflict.

?Conflict, confrontation, and agony. It's a perfect story. Indeed, no luxurious stage or grand theater can compare to a stage set against the vastness of this world.?

‘Kerapald’ recalled his old self for a moment.

The vassal states of the Empire were essentially colonies in everything but name.

Food, wealth, culture, and people.

The vassal states had to pay tribute to the Empire to maintain their existence.

Among the tributes, cultural assets were particularly valued.

They were cost-effective and satisfied the vanity of the Empire's elite while retaining their unique characteristics.

Recently, the most popular cultural asset was theater.

To win the competition for tribute, vassal states often ran state-sponsored theater troupes.

The most crucial part of any theater troupe, of course, was the actors.

To perform all sorts of roles required immense talent: exceptional memory, tenacious observation skills, physical ability to reenact heroic tales on stage, and the application of learned knowledge.

Before being known as the Camarilla, she was an actor who could stand out anywhere.

?However, in a vassal state that had to keep an eye on the Empire's whims, they couldn't reflect reality. I was a living corpse who only existed on stage.?

There was an official from the Empire who openly accepted bribes.

Yet no one dared to criticize him.

Instead, they had to package bribes as gifts to avoid offending him.

Zigrund found this 'laughable.'

It wasn't that she felt injustice or resentment.

She didn't suppress anger against power.

She simply found it laughable.

If one felt ashamed, they wouldn't accept bribes.

If they were greedy for wealth, they should gladly take it.

But the official's pretense of nobility while secretly accepting all sorts of ‘gifts’ was so laughable that Zigrund ridiculed him thoroughly.

She donned a silly mustache and made a mockery of the official with a ludicrous performance, turning him into the butt of everyone's jokes.

However, expressing the satirical nature common to all artists had dire consequences.

?Hahaha! At that time, I didn’t know! That it would lead me to a life of wandering the world.?

Her long career as an actor helped significantly.

She escaped danger several times thanks to her convincing performances even in front of the Empire’s terrifying pursuers.

She changed her appearance, moved her residence, altered her clothes, changed her attitude, and replaced all her connections.

By the time she almost forgot who she really was, 'she' found him.

?She said she wanted to eradicate injustice in the newly-born country and asked for my help! Hahaha! What nonsense. I didn’t particularly like being incorruptible!?

But Zigrund accepted her proposal regardless.

After years of relentless pursuit, she had no choice.

The threat to her life was significant, but more importantly, it was to preserve her identity.

Zigrund, born an actor, had many personas layered over her true self.

Thanks to her remarkable performances, she escaped many crises, but she had changed her identity so often that she could hardly remember who she originally was.

However, ‘she’ who came to find ‘herself’, not one of the dozens of personalities, but the collective term for all of them, was an anchor that defined herself.

?Ah! Almost forgot. Focus. Focus. Don’t forget. I am the Camarilla, Zigrund playing the role of Kerapald.?

With her mind settled, 'Kerapald' drew a picture in his mind.

Average physique and, average build.

A featureless, ordinary face like a blank canvas.

The body of Zigrund, which he would return to after finishing the role of 'Kerapald.'

An anchor for the ego he created amidst numerous personas and statuses.

Resuming his performance, Zigrund watched the actors before him with delight.

The conflict he orchestrated was escalating.

Normally, a third party’s mediation would be necessary in such situations, but unfortunately, there was no one here to mediate.

The relatively composed Tyr urged the two.

[Make a decision soon. Or I will bring Hu myself. Without him, the discussion is not going anywhere.]

"Tch. Fine. So, we agree to destroy this facility? Let’s think about what to do with the laborers later after we’ve demolished it….”

Just as the Regressor reached a simplistic and violent conclusion, she sensed something on the other side and frowned.

Quickly changing her expression, she glared at the iron door and asked 'Kerapald.'

"Wait. I sense someone inside. Hey, is there security in there?"

“I-I’m not sure. Considering the situation, maybe. I don’t know for certain.”

?Security? There’s no way. Hiding Military State forces here would be useless and would only interfere with the conflict between the characters. The scene with ambushing forces comes much later.?

Everyone grew anxious.

With an unknown intruder, there was no more time for arguing. Much to Zigrund’s dismay.

"Let's go in! I'll go first!"

The Regressor pushed her swords forward and sprinted.

She covered the distance to the opposite corridor in two strides and kicked the steel door with her momentum.

Her kick, infused with Qi art, crumpled the Grade-3 Alchemic Steel door.

“Who are you…! Huh?”

The Regressor, ready to swing her sword, stopped abruptly.

The room was filled with complex machinery and unfamiliar noises.

The clanging of metal was deafening.

Unlike humans, machines didn’t need light to operate.

Dim lighting faintly illuminated the control room.

Standing in the middle was none other than me.

The one who had fled outside, unable to bear the horrors, now stood in the control room in the depths.

"Huey? How... Did you get here before us?"

[Hu? Perfect timing.]

Tyr, Historia, Shiati, and 'Kerapald' entered one after another.

They were surprised by my appearance but only to a certain extent.

Being allies, there was no need to be wary.

Only 'Kerapald' felt a sense of foreboding and trembled.

“How are you… coming out from there?”

?Why is a character who exited the stage here? This wasn’t in the script…!?

Bathed in the dim light, with everyone’s eyes on me, I spoke with a heavy, firm tone.

“You came earlier than I expected. I wanted to finish before you arrived.”