Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint-Chapter 489: I Neither Rule Nor Reign

Since I started sharing the Regressor’s Manhanjeonseok, the benefits have been endless. It costs nothing, guarantees delicious food, and offers a diverse menu. Even the minor inconvenience of getting only a single bite-sized portion per serving feels more like a trade-off than a drawback, making the variety all the more enjoyable.

However, there is one major downside. And that one downside was enough to overshadow all the positives.

And that was—

“Hughes.”

“Yes?”

“Are you familiar with the saying, ‘He who does not work, neither shall he eat’?”

The Regressor’s constant nagging.

I swallowed my bite of salad, dressed with yuzu vinegar, yet it felt as heavy as steel in my mouth. Watching her out of the corner of my eye, I hurriedly made an excuse.

“It all worked out in the end, didn’t it?”

“What do you mean, worked out? It was supposed to go this way from the start.”

‘That sounds too much like I know the future. I should rephrase that a little.’

“Whether we like it or not, we had to fight the King of Wolves. A single official causing some trouble didn’t really change anything.”

“If it didn’t matter, then that’s exactly the problem.”

“The official shouldn’t have been able to cause trouble in the first place! That’s why you were called in, to prevent that from happening!”

Now I understand why grown children don’t like sharing meals with their parents. What’s the point of a well-prepared meal if it’s impossible to swallow?

“The official openly targeted Azzy, and you did nothing! At the very least, you should have been watching over her!”

“I was watching over her. I didn’t expect that person to lose control like that.”

“If you didn’t expect it, does that mean you couldn’t handle it at all? How am I supposed to trust you with anything?”

“Ugh. You just won’t let up, will you?”

“Won’t let up?”

I couldn’t hold back any longer—I slammed my utensils down and stood up. Even I have my pride. No matter how carefree an animal may be, or rather, because an animal is carefree, they are more sensitive to criticism.

“All you ever do is scold me and criticize me! Every single day, I have to tiptoe around you, and I can’t even eat in peace!”

“Oh, come on. Who’s the one handling all the work here?”

“And how well have you been handling it? You’ve wasted so much time messing around, and now that things have gone a little better, you’re acting all high and mighty?”

“When have I ever wasted time?”

“For starters, pretending not to know the future when you actually do! And pretending otherwise just to take advantage of the situation! Be honest. You saw the future this time too, didn’t you?”

The Regressor, struck at the core of the issue, reflexively blurted out an excuse faster than lightning.

“I—I’m not a Saintess. I’m a man.”

“...What?”

‘Wait, should I not have said that? But if I stay in a female form, I’ll just get mistaken for a Saintess, which is a hassle. Even Tyrkanzyaka turned hostile the moment she realized I was female.’

Are you still using that excuse? Didn’t Tyr already find out? I wasn’t conscious when we parted ways in the Ten Nations, but when I read her memories, she clearly considered you a Saintess.

‘...Hughes wasn’t there, so he wouldn’t know, right? Yeah, that must be it! He hasn’t seemed particularly focused on my gender until now!’

Like I care what you are. Ugh, whatever. If that’s what you want, I’ll just treat you as a man. Though, honestly, the idea of the King of Humanity not even being able to distinguish human sexes is laughable.

“I don’t know what the future holds anymore. The only thing I’m certain of is that the King of Sins will appear and destroy the world. Stopping the King of Wolves wasn’t based on foresight—it was just preparation. The Wolf’s power is too overwhelming, so I had to gather strength from wherever I could. You were supposed to be part of that effort, but...”

The Regressor, having fully settled into their persona, let out a sigh while looking at me.

“...I didn’t expect you to be this weak and useless. Well, whatever. I’ll just consider you a set with Azzy.”

“...What? A set? With Azzy?”

Fine. I admit it. I’m weak. Even though I’ve regained some strength during our travels, compared to true powerhouses, I’m nothing. A Regressor? What Regressor? Even the noble hound Welsh, a mere guard dog of Ende’s aristocracy, is either equal to or stronger than me.

But even so! Even so! How could she just lump me together with a dog?!

“Azzy is nothing more than a pet! If anyone is lazing around, it’s her more than me!”

“Woof? Me?”

“But at least Azzy, as the King of Beasts, can rally the goodwill of other canine beastkin. She’ll help fight the King of Wolves too. She’s {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} a dog, after all, so a bit of laziness is forgivable.”

“Woof woof? All of a sudden?”

“If it weren’t for the Holy Crown Church, I would have been leading humans myself! If my power hadn’t been stolen, I could have crushed the Wolf in a single blow! If anything, the fact that the weakened King of Humanity is still fighting to uphold his promises is even more noble! You should be more grateful!”

“Woof woof woof! Thank you!”

“Grateful?! You haven’t put in any effort at all! What have you even done since you got here?!”

“Woof...?”

Azzy, why are you tilting your head like that? You need me more than anyone, and yet you’re making a face like, Huh, now that I think about it...

These bastards. Do they really see me as nothing but a freeloader? Fine. If that’s what they think, I’ll prove them wrong. I chose not to work—it’s not that I couldn’t!

“Haa. Shei, you want me to do something? For real?”

“Of course. Just do anything for once. Aren’t you the King of Humanity?”

“Fine. Just wait here. I’ll bring back some results.”

It would be exhausting and difficult, but it was better than living under constant scrutiny every day. I grabbed my coat, preparing to head out. As I moved toward the door, the Regressor followed me and asked,

“It’s already dark.”

“Then I’ll do something suited for the dark.”

“What exactly are you planning?”

“You’ll see when I’m done.”

“Want help?”

“No need. I’ll handle it on my own.”

“Really? Then go ahead. If you pull it off, I’ll praise you.”

“Praise? Ha. You’ll be begging for forgiveness when you realize how wrong you were.”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

I threw on a hood, gathered my remaining cards, and impulsively stormed out. The cold night air brushed against my face as I stepped into the courtyard. For a brief moment, I hesitated, half-expecting someone to stop me.

‘What is he up to? Should I follow him?’

So you’re not going to stop me—just spy on me instead? You really are something else.

‘No... he already caught me tailing him back in Tantalus. I should just let him do whatever he wants instead of giving him an excuse to slack off.’

Unfortunately, the Regressor had no intention of stopping me. Since I had left so boldly, there was no turning back now.

Leaving the warm glow of the mansion behind, I pushed open the courtyard gate and plunged into Ende’s cold darkness.

Now that I think about it, it’s quite strange.

The King of Beasts is powerful, but not invincible. They are a conceptual existence, embodying the strength and voice of a single species—not some force of nature or divine being.

Even if Azzy is strong, she’s not on par with the Six Martial Lords. And the butterfly? It whimpered after taking a single hit from Tyrkanzyaka. No matter how much combat experience they have, they’re still creatures detached from humanity. At best, their fights amount to nothing more than a beast running rampant in a courtyard.

Yet, the Regressor spoke of the King of Wolves as if they were some apocalyptic disaster. No matter how large their pack might be, it couldn’t possibly compare to human civilization. For such unity to exist, every species would have to band together with a singular purpose. Even humans can’t manage that—could wolves really achieve it?

I couldn’t understand it. That is, until today—when I read the thoughts of those in Obeli.

"Sniff! Today, I taught a lesson to two mongrels who dared to eat pork. Every time they bite into meat from now on, they’ll suffer from their loose front teeth!"

So, this isn’t just a wolf problem.

In Ende’s lowest depths, where filth and refuse flowed out of the city, there existed a space akin to its intestines—where only the desperate scraped together what they could to survive. A place where a human wouldn’t last long before succumbing to disease.

And in that place, a group of pig beastmen sat around a bonfire, laughing and boasting about their day’s accomplishments.

"Is that all? I went and smeared filth all over the butcher’s shop! That bastard turned red as a pig’s ass, screaming that he’d rip out my guts and smear them in the same way! Puhaha! Eat shit, you bastard! If you’re gonna spread filth, at least do it inside the curing room!"

"Do those bastards do anything besides run their mouths? They think they can solve everything just by yapping! I flipped a restaurant once, and you know what they said? They swore they’d never serve another scrap of food to a ‘Piggy’ again!"

"As if they ever shared in the first place! All they ever did was spit curses at us!"

"Let’s see who wins this mudslinging contest. Unlike them, we were born in the filth—we have nothing to lose!"

“...But isn’t this too petty to even call a mudslinging contest? This isn’t even terrorism—it’s just childish pranks, isn’t it?”

In the darkness, the pig beastmen reveled in their crude and sordid pleasure, too engrossed to notice my presence immediately.

"If you pull pranks with enough conviction, they become art! We’re showing them—the fools of this city—just how reckless we can be!"

"If you really want to make a statement, you need to spread it far and wide. Screaming in the same gutter will only get you an echo."

"Who the hell is this killjoy?!"

The chatter stopped, and they turned to search for the source of the voice. It didn’t take them long. After all, I was sitting right next to them, waving.

"Good evening."

"You...!"

It was him. The bastard who stabbed me.

Of course, he recognized me. No matter how stupid a pig beastman might be, he wouldn’t forget someone he stabbed just two days ago—unless he had stabbed so many people that I was just another number.

"You little...!"

As he reached into his coat for a knife, I struck his pocket hard. The blade slipped in his grip and cut his own hand. The pig beastman let out a pained scream and stumbled backward.

"Get him!"

Apparently, they thought numbers would do the trick. Several pig beastmen rushed me from all directions—at least five, all moving with chaotic intent, their bodies colliding as they lunged. A mess of desperate, uncoordinated attacks.

The old me might have struggled against such a frenzied assault. But not anymore. I flicked my wrist, drawing a card.

Spade 10, Gaia Ego.

I couldn’t cause earthquakes or reshape the land, but I could dig trenches. The ground beneath the pig beastmen suddenly twisted, uneven ridges rising and dipping without warning.

They tripped. Stumbled. Crashed into one another. Faces slammed together, flailing limbs tangled, and one beastman toppled over another. I stepped back and let their own momentum pile them up.

The last one standing charged at me.

"Die!"

A sharp dagger slashed toward me without hesitation. He had no reservations about killing. No, it wasn’t that—he simply wasn’t thinking that far ahead. He was too busy directing his hostility at me.

Dull-witted as they were, blades were still dangerous. I pressed a card against my palm as a makeshift shield and let the dagger meet it.

The pig beastman sneered, thinking I was trying to block with mere paper. He pushed harder, intent on slicing through both the card and my hand.

But—

"Ta-da!"

The dagger disintegrated into a flurry of cards, as if devoured. Only the hilt remained in his grip.

The pig beastman gawked at the scattering paper.

"W-what? A card?!"

"Now this feels like real magic."

Updat𝒆d fr𝒐m freewebnσvel.cøm.

Yeah, having more cards at my disposal really makes fights easier. Maybe I should call this practical combat magic.

While he was still in shock, I flattened his nose with a punch. Blood splattered as he crumpled to the ground. Stepping on his fallen form, I glanced around.

They were nothing but street thugs—tougher than humans, sure, but still just pigs rolling in the mud. Subduing them wasn’t even worth bragging about.

I looked down at the defeated pig beastmen and scoffed.

"Well, well. Filth of society. If you’re trash, you should stay in the sewer where you belong. You attack people just for eating pork? Do you actually feel some kind of kinship with pigs?"

"What?! You son of a—!"

One of them flared up, about to shout, but another clamped his mouth shut.

The slightly smarter one among them spoke up with feigned bravado.

"W-we didn’t do anything! Do you have proof?!"

"Proof? You were literally bragging about it just now."

"That was just pig-to-pig banter. Who are you to falsely accuse us? What, are you some kind of official?"

Oh? So that’s how you want to play it? I scratched my chin.

"Not exactly."

"Then what gives you the right to beat us up and throw accusations around?! Are you seriously trying to frame us, you damn human?!"

"You were the ones who drew knives first."

"Self-defense!"

Ah, so that’s how they operate.

People without laws survive because laws exist. Ende, despite its chaos, still had its own order. As a beastmen city, they had their own rights and privileges—including these pig beastmen.

If this were a true lawless land, it would be survival of the fittest. But here, Ende was still a structured society. That’s why an organization like Orcma could survive.

"Everyone knows pig beastmen have been causing trouble lately. Even the Celestials and the Earth Mother are aware of it."

"There are over thirty thousand pigs in Ende alone. Even more outside! How can you be sure it was us?"

"You want to punish us without proof? Even an official would face backlash for that!"

"Do you really want to see thirty thousand pigs rise up at once?"

They say three people telling the same lie can make a tiger appear. With seven pigs grunting at once, it was impossible to win by sheer momentum.

I let my face scrunch up, feigning uncertainty.

"Quite the confidence you have. But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re criminals."

"Then bring proof! Bring a witness! Otherwise, we won’t just sit back and take this!"

"Go to the temple, go to Obeli, spread the word anywhere you want!"

Proof, huh? Finding proof is always tricky. Evidence doesn’t just conveniently lie around, and even if it does, who decides its validity?

They call themselves Orcma, but they’re just pig beastmen—most of them are ordinary street thugs. There’s no clear way to separate the ones causing trouble from the ones who aren’t. Not unless you purge all of them.

Not that there were any innocent pig beastmen to begin with.

"Hmm. I see your point. I guess I don’t have solid proof. So maybe I should just go ask your mother."

"Mother?"

"Oh, wait. Do you guys call her the Matron instead? Whatever, same difference. You pigs call anyone who feeds you ‘mother,’ don’t you?"

I didn’t need proof. Because I could read minds.

"The Matron—s-she’s just an old pig beastman who gives us food sometimes!"

"Oh, sure, sure. An old pig woman who just happens to take extra good care of terrorist pigs, who just happens to have an unlimited supply of food from gods-know-where. I should definitely look into that. Evidence is evidence, after all."

There’s an old joke—pig beastmen can’t gather in groups larger than twenty-one. Because they run out of fingers and toes to count.

Do these pigs really have the resources to organize Orcma? To orchestrate terrorism? If they had that kind of capability, they wouldn’t be wallowing in self-pity. If they had such cohesion, they would have built their own nation back in the orc era.

"W-who... who told you that?!"

"Who else? If I didn’t hear it from pigs, who would I have heard it from?"

More accurately, I read it from your minds.

Secret organizations? Compartmentalized cells? None of that matters. Every organization is ultimately connected through people.

I’ll follow the trail, one mind at a time, until I reach the very core—the one trying to fracture this city.

"P-pigs...? No way. Could it be... the opposition?"

"Oh dear. Did I just say too much?"

Let them misunderstand however they want. It didn’t matter to me.

Waving them off, I stepped back into the darkness.

Tonight, I had many places to visit.