This Isn't an E*otic Game?-Chapter 65: Spoiler

Mammon's jaw dropped.

[What the hell is this guy?]

Such skillful agitation.

And the words he spoke didn’t seem like something hastily prepared in a day or two.

He was a prepared agitator, if there ever was one.

In the end, things took a turn for the worse, just as Mammon feared.

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Instead of stepping down from the stage, the Saint had inserted himself as one of the central figures.

[That damn bastard! Why won't he just leave!!!]

Normally, a "Chosen One" or Saint would be someone clueless about the world, solely relying on the will of the gods.

Because of this, if their actions caused harm or suffering to those around them, Saints and Saintesses typically suffered as well, either leaving or becoming flustered and turning to their gods for guidance, only to make things worse.

That was the usual pattern, but this Saint didn’t play along.

[What the hell should I do now?]

Mammon had to sit and think for a while.

He looked down at the city.

The workers, who had started in the thousands, now numbered in the tens of thousands. Soon, they would swell into hundreds of thousands, joining the strike led by the Saint.

It was the very scene Mammon had hoped for.

[This was supposed to be the start of an endless war between the money-driven businessmen and the power-hungry labor theorists...]

Mammon knew labor theory well.

He had read "On Capital" more times than he could count, as it was revered by the labor theorists as if it were a holy book.

Because of this, Mammon also understood the fundamental limitations of the labor theorists.

They were angry at capitalism and wanted to spark a revolution, but ironically, their ideology was more likely to corrupt faster than any capitalist ever could.

Revolutionary labor theorists, having gained power, would gradually succumb to their thirst for power, eventually becoming no different from the capitalists, while countless poor and impoverished workers would continue to bleed and suffer between the greed of both the capitalists and the revolutionaries.

That was what Mammon had been hoping for.

He planned to devour all the souls and grudges that would pour out during that process.

But the appearance of ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) the Saint had thrown everything off from the start.

[No, wait. There's no need to think negatively, is there?]

But soon, Mammon changed his line of thinking.

The Saint had created a variable, yes, but there was still a chance to exploit him.

Thanks to the Saint, the revolution was now burning even hotter than Mammon had expected.

So why not use that to his advantage?

Most of the factory owners, capitalists, and upper class of Scrap Yard were already puppets in Mammon’s control.

And on the flip side, many of the labor theorists were also under his influence.

When the revolution started, the capitalists would suppress the revolutionaries with all their might, and the revolutionaries would fight more radically, spilling even more blood.

[Originally, I intended to place Kal Lenaro at the forefront, but given the current situation, I’ll have to make the Saint the face of the revolution.]

What would that soft-hearted fool do, if people died for his cause and terror and assassination ran rampant in this mad era?

Mammon was certain that Amayel didn’t understand the inherent dangers in the labor theorists' ideology.

He was likely just trying to fight for the oppressed and poor.

But Mammon knew all too well.

Good intentions don’t always lead to good outcomes.

[Don’t die. I won’t kill you. Jericho Amayel. Become the embodiment of revolution, and rule for a long time. Fight, and spill blood. O healing Saint, fight on for a long, long time. For me.]

Mammon let out a sinister laugh.

****

The population of Scrap Yard was estimated to be close to a million.

Being such a large city, its population had grown into the tens of thousands.

And a general strike meant that tens of thousands of workers had to be directed all at once.

Naturally, I couldn’t do that on my own.

I needed help.

And not long after, those who could help me came to find me.

"It's Kal Lenaro."

A group of people who identified themselves as labor theorists approached me and soon led me underground to a small building in a corner of the city.

There, I saw a man in his mid-forties with a tough, rugged expression remove his disguise and approach me.

I recognized his face immediately.

He was the man whose face had been plastered across the newspapers every day.

The leader of the labor theorists.

Kal Lenaro looked at me with an expression full of excitement.

"May I call you Comrade Amayel?"

I nodded, and Kal Lenaro grabbed my hand firmly, his face glowing like a fan meeting an idol.

"Workers of the city, unite. That phrase still echoes in my ears. It's wonderful. No comrade has given such an excellent speech as you have. I was watching you with doubt, but now there’s no reason to doubt. You are a labor theorist. The comrade of revolution, greater than anyone else."

Kal Lenaro squeezed my hand even tighter.

"A general strike! Normally, it would be impossible to accomplish this so easily. But Comrade Amayel, thanks to you, we’ve been able to do it with ease. The whole city is watching you."

The middle-aged man smiled brightly, but his eyes were terrifying.

"I have one question. Comrade Amayel, what is the purpose of this strike? What is the purpose of this revolution? I want to understand clearly what you intend to achieve."

Kal Lenaro and the surrounding labor theorists all had excited faces.

But alongside their excitement, there was a hint of unease.

The Saint revolutionizing a city that had rejected religion.

They likely wanted me to clarify my position more clearly.

"I’m doing this to save the people of this city. Even if I heal them again and again, if society is fundamentally flawed and rotten, they will only become sick again."

"What kind of society are you aiming for with such improvements?"

"A society where the poor can live with dignity as humans."

"Does it matter if they don’t believe in Goddess Lilia?"

Only now did I start to understand Kal Lenaro’s true intentions.

These people...

I heard they have a culture of rejecting religion, yet it seems they think I’m doing all this for proselytizing purposes?

"I don’t care if they believe or not. I just want to stop those who are injured and suffering. After fixing the system, I’ll leave."

I’m not someone who should be here for long, to begin with.

The situation got out of hand, but what I want is for workers to live a more dignified life, not to stay here and establish a religious order or proselytize the people of this city.

"You’re leaving...?"

"I never planned to stay in this city for long. I just wish for the workers’ living conditions to improve."

A satisfied smile spread across Kal Lenaro's face.

"You’re not a religious zealot interested only in proselytizing. I’m impressed. I never thought someone like you would still be in the Divine Temple. I understand now—your true interest lies in improving the treatment of the workers."

Kal Lenaro let out a whistle.

At his signal, a group of people who had been hiding outside the room entered.

They were all armed with rifles, pistols, and what appeared to be bombs.

"We’ve already gathered all the intel. We know the location of the police station, the number of troops, and the level of armament. Let’s work together. With your power, you could boost the morale of the revolutionaries. Use your ability to regenerate limbs for us."

They had dangerous looks in their eyes.

Faces that seemed ready to commit murder and violence without a second thought.

"The capitalist pigs and the factory owners, just as you said, will soon be trembling in fear of the revolution. The general strike is just the beginning. We will stop their factories, freeze the mines. We’ll dry up their capital and start a war. Until the blood flows from the hearts of those pigs. We won’t stop until they cry tears of fear and terror!!"

Kal extended his hand toward me.

"Let’s do this together, Comrade Amayel! Let the revolutionaries become the rulers of this city! Let the vanguard and revolutionaries occupy the means of production, making it not for the capitalists, but for the workers!! If you lend us your power, we can do it!!"

I stared at Kal’s outstretched hand.

I see.

It makes sense.

If you say red, the red people will come.

I didn’t take Kal’s hand.

The heated atmosphere began to shift, subtly turning awkward as I didn’t react.

Kal extended his hand even further toward me.

"Comrade Amayel? Is something wrong?"

I carefully took his hand and lowered it.

Then I shook my head.

"No. I won’t do that."

"...What?"

"This general strike will only be used to force the ruling class of this city to come to the negotiation table. After that, I’ll borrow capital from Karma Company in the capital to buy up the factories in this city. And just like Karma Company did in the capital, we’ll begin to restore jobs here in the city."

Kal Lenaro's expression hardened instantly.

The labor theorists gathered around began to murmur in confusion.

"Also, I will bring in the healers from the Graceful Church and set up a clinic here to treat the sick. We will not engage in proselytizing; we will only focus on healing."

"..."

"And finally, I’ll use the Imperial family to pass laws for the workers, ensuring that nothing like this ever happens again. My intention is not to use guns and bombs to commit murder. Your methods are not ones I can follow, Mr. Lenaro."

Kal Lenaro collapsed into his chair, visibly shocked.

A few hot-headed labor theorists had already started glaring at me as if they wanted to kill me.

"You're a capitalist dog?"

"Not just a religious peddler, but a pig trying to turn the whole city into your religious cult to line your pockets!!!"

"Comrade Lenaro!! What are you doing? He’s a spy!! This Saint wasn’t even interested in creating a paradise for the workers!! He’s speaking the same words as the capitalists!!"

Some of them, their faces full of rage, reached for their pistols.

19 years old.

There were even some as young as 15.

Seeing them, full of nothing but hatred and anger, I worried not for my own life, but for their safety.

A mere pistol wouldn’t kill me.

Don’t underestimate Time Stop and body modifications.

I’d be fine, but the moment they pull the trigger, they’ll be buried for life by the Empire.

Please, don’t.

In the tense atmosphere where it felt like they might draw their guns at any moment, Kal Lenaro raised his hand, stopping the furious revolutionaries.

"What’s the reason?" Kal asked with a trembling voice.

"Why is it that someone who led the strike with the most labor-theorist-like speech suddenly sounds like a capitalist pig? Why? Was everything you said about helping the workers a lie?"

"....."

"I saw you, sacrificing sleep and food, treating the sick. You, more than anyone, know how cruelly the capitalists and factory owners exploit humans!! So why are you saying this? I am about to lose my sanity. Amayel, please explain. I have the right to hear this."

So, you want the spoilers, huh?

Fine.

You deserve to hear it.

And besides, I now hold a title that ensures no one will doubt me even if I spoil it.

"I’m a recognized Seer from the Divine Temple. You know that, right? So, I know how your revolution will end. Let me tell you that now."

I knew exactly how these fiery revolutionaries would turn out.

"You will become even greater mass murderers than any capitalist, massacring workers, all in the name of 'helping the workers.'"