Chapter 63
The police seemed startled by the sudden turn of events.
They reflexively pulled out their pistols and batons, but as expected—
They couldn’t bring themselves to swing or fire.
Of course not.
If even a single scratch appears on my body… well, we’ll see what happens then.
“T-This is a blatant obstruction of law enforcement!!”
“Ignoring imperial law and wielding miracles like this is an illegal act!!”
Yeah.
That’s right.
It is illegal.
But tell me, when I beat up that factory owner and baron back in the capital, was that legal?
Was that fine just because no one called it a crime?
“Illegal? Then I’ll just commit it.”
“W-What?!”
“And what exactly do you plan to do about it?”
“......”
“Shoot me? Beat me with your batons? Drag me away like a dog and throw me into a detention camp? Just like you did to the countless laborers here?”
The police remained silent.
Yeah.
Of course, they would.
I’m not someone they can afford to lay a hand on.
I released the officer I had forcibly suspended mid-air using time-stop.
He collapsed to the ground, half-conscious from being choked.
“Treat these people. And once they no longer need medical care, I’ll leave—whether you want me to or not. Until then, stay out of my way.”
The officers hesitated, then, supporting their fallen comrade, cast nervous glances my way before retreating powerlessly.
As soon as they left, the patients and their families, who had gathered around me, erupted in cheers.
“Yeah!! Get lost, you bastards!!”
“We’re human too!! We have the right to be treated and to live with dignity!!”
“Exile? What a joke! Since when did the pharmaceutical companies and doctors ever care about us?!”
The police left under a rain of jeers and insults.
The workers looked relieved, but I couldn’t shake off a sense of unease.
Logically speaking—
Someone is providing free medical treatment to workers, without draining any social resources.
Shouldn’t they be happy about that?
Why are they so desperate to drive me away?
On top of that,
touching me would mean provoking both the Imperial Family and the Pantheon.
What exactly are the elites of this city thinking,
taking such measures?
“Saint! Please, my daughter!”
My thoughts were interrupted by the desperate voice of a father carrying his injured child.
Right.
What use is logic in a place like this?
This is a city ruled by greed-driven bastards who exploit children for profit.
The pharmaceutical companies and doctors probably feel threatened—
Their monopoly over healthcare here is being shaken, so they mobilized the police in response.
“Don’t worry anymore.”
I placed my hand on the child and healed her with ease.
The father, seeing his daughter completely cured, held her tightly and broke down in tears.
“Thank you… Thank you, Saint.”
I patted his shoulder gently.
“Go home in peace. Your daughter will no longer suffer.”
This isn’t something I can keep doing forever.
I have to prevent my divine power from feeding off faith and growing uncontrollably.
But at least for now—
For as long as I can—
I will save them.
Because that’s just who I am.
I can’t stand by and watch people suffer when I have the power to help them.
Most clerics, priests, and holy knights would have backed down the moment the police invoked the law against them.
After all, this city isn’t particularly welcoming to religion,
And no one wants to break the law just to spread their faith.
But this so-called “Saint”—
He didn’t leave so easily.
If he were just an ordinary priest, we could’ve beaten him up and thrown him out as a last resort.
But this bastard—
He’s a key figure of both the Imperial Family and the Pantheon.
We can’t touch him.
[This damn bastard!! Just leave! LEAVE ALREADY!!]
Mammon tried several more times to expel the Saint by sending in the police.
“How many times must I tell you that your presence here is illegal?! Free medical care is the nonsense of labor radicals! On top of that, you’ve assaulted the police! You are hereby exiled! Leave this city immediately!”
Since beating him with batons or shooting him would cause a catastrophic uproar, we tried a more “peaceful” approach—
Slapping cuffs on his wrists and dragging him out by force.
Of course, that failed too.
The Saint simply unbuckled his belt, held it in his hand—
And with a single lash, he split a police riot shield in half.
The sheer force behind that one strike was monstrous.
His movements weren’t those of a Saint.
They were closer to that of a berserker.
“Why are you doing this, Saint? Just go back to the capital. There’s nothing for you here. Treating these people won’t bring you anything in return.”
When physical force failed, they tried persuasion.
“This place is filthy, it reeks. You can’t even eat properly, wash, or get proper rest here. I’ve arranged a first-class express train for you. There’s even a shower onboard. Go clean yourself up, eat, drink, and return to the Order of Grace.”
That, too, was useless.
“I already told you. I will not leave until I have treated every last patient here.”
“Come now, there’s no need for this. Why go out of your way to suffer here? If you return to the Order of Grace, you’ll be treated far better.”
“Because this is the right thing to do.”
Mammon felt an overwhelming urge to descend to the mortal realm and tear that saint’s mouth apart.
The fact that the White Order and the Pantheon’s holy knights hadn’t been summoned meant that he still wasn’t aware of Mammon’s influence lurking behind the scenes of this city.
That meant this wasn’t some elaborate scheme to provoke him.
Was this idiot truly just that kind-hearted?
[What kind of storybook saint is this?]
Mammon couldn’t hide his disbelief.
Even among the countless chosen of the Pantheon from three hundred years ago,
people like this were rare.
That damned evil god had once spouted nonsense, claiming that Asmodeus, the demon of lust, was masquerading as a saint—
A statement so absurd it sounded like a dog farting in church.
But as far as Mammon could see, that theory was utterly impossible.
This man… this thing was undeniably one of the divine entities that fell to the mortal realm during the Celestial War.
There was no other explanation for someone so fundamentally good.
[How the hell am I supposed to get rid of an idiot who’s this stupidly kind?]
Assassination?
No good.
The Imperial Family and the Pantheon would descend faster than bullets.
Exile?
Wouldn’t work.
Neither force nor persuasion had any effect,and even the law meant nothing to him.
So what could be done?
A single idea surfaced in Mammon’s mind.
[If I can’t drive you away by tormenting you…]
[What if I make the people around you suffer instead?]
Few things were as unbearable as watching those around you suffer because of you.
And from Mammon’s experience, the more righteous the person, the more effective this method became.
And this so-called saint, who was treating people in his city,
Was the kindest soul he had ever seen.
[What if the workers start suffering because of him?]
[Would he still be able to endure it then?]
Peter, Anna, Jim, and Amy were running a soup kitchen, distributing meals to the people.
Despite their own poverty, the same kindness that had led them to share their black bread with me before shone through once again.
“Saint sir, please have some soup.”
After working for over twelve hours without a proper break, exhaustion was beginning to take its toll.
I could keep my body functioning through physical enhancements, but my mind wasn’t as resilient.
Anna must have noticed my fatigue because she offered me a bowl of soup with a concerned expression.
After eating, I lay down on the ground, closing my eyes for a brief rest.
There was no time to waste.
Just one hour.
I’d sleep for just one hour and then get back to work.
I couldn’t afford to stay here much longer.
The Demon King’s power was growing—
And I needed to leave before it became too strong.
But before that, I had to heal as many people as I could.
Wrapped in a tattered blanket the workers had found somewhere, I had barely begun to drift off—
When the sound of something shattering jolted me awake.
“W-Why are you doing this?!”
“A soup kitchen, huh? Sounds like the kind of thing those filthy labor radicals would love. I find it highly suspicious. We’ll need to take you in for interrogation.”
The police were tearing apart the soup kitchen.
But this time, they weren’t just the usual officers who had been sent before.
These were special forces.
They wore steam-powered exosuits, armed with rifles and electric batons.
Without hesitation, they beat people down and dragged them away.
I shot to my feet.
“What do you think you’re doing?!”
The officer who appeared to be in charge glanced at me before smirking.
“We’re arresting suspicious individuals who may be associated with labor radicalism. Is there a problem?”
Peter, Anna, Jim, and Amy—
They were being cuffed right before my eyes.
Fury burned through me as I shouted.
“How is feeding the hungry and treating the sick a crime?!”
“You’re directly enacting the labor radicals’ ideals, aren’t you? Those vermin push for shameless welfare policies, claiming that the city’s taxpayers should support worthless trash who can’t contribute to society. It’s nothing more than nonsense spouted by degenerates.”
“Not a single tax coin was used! I did all of this with my own personal wealth! So tell me—how does that warrant punishment?!”
“Even if it was done with personal funds, your actions embolden the labor radicals and promote social unrest. That alone is enough to warrant consequences.”
“Release Peter and Anna and their family! Now!”
I loosened my belt and gripped it in my hand.
The officers who had experienced my strength before flinched, instinctively taking a step back.
Even the special forces commander hesitated, raising a hand to signal his men to hold their positions.
“You’re going too far, Saint sir. It seems the law and regulations mean nothing to you.”
The commander chuckled.
Then, raising his voice for all to hear, he declared:
“From this moment forward, anyone who receives treatment from the Saint will be labeled a subversive element and summarily dismissed from their jobs! Furthermore, they will be interrogated under suspicion of labor radicalism—
And in extreme cases, sent to detention camps!”
A chilling silence settled over the crowd.
The word dismissed—
The workers’ faces turned pale in an instant.
“The Saint won’t be able to save all of you.”
The commander sneered.
“We’ll have officers patrolling the city. Anyone found associating with him will be arrested and taken to court—
And eventually, to the camps.
The Saint might save a few of you—
But he can’t save everyone.”
The workers and the patients’ families clenched their teeth in frustration.
But despite their anger, they hesitated.
They knew the risk.
They were terrified.
Fired.
It seemed like the threat of being fired scared them more than the idea of being sent to a detention camp.
…Wow.
They were really playing dirty.
If it were just me, I could use time-stop or hypnosis to turn this situation around somehow.
But when they openly declared their intent to target everyone, there was no way I could protect them all.
The commander, noticing the hesitation in my eyes, stepped closer and spoke in a low voice.
“Saint sir. Do you really want to see all of these people suffer because of you?”
“......Why are you going this far?”
“I should be the one asking that. These are just poor, filthy, uneducated laborers. Why are you doing all this for them?”
“........”
“I’ll admit it. You are beyond our control. But they are not.”
“Don’t make them suffer any further. Leave.”
“If you’re still here tomorrow, it won’t be you who pays the price—it’ll be them.”
Then, the officers released Peter, Anna, Jim, and Amy.
“I’ve memorized your faces.”
“Step out of line even once more, and you’ll be sent straight to the camps.”
With that final threat, the police withdrew.
The soup kitchen was in ruins.
Several laborers had already been beaten while I was asleep.
But worst of all—
“Yeah. This was bound to happen.”
“What’s the point of getting treated? We’ll just get hurt again anyway.”
The people… they had given up.
I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms.
I couldn’t take them all to Karma Company.
Even if we had an endless supply of elixirs, creating jobs for hundreds of thousands of workers was impossible.
Would they be any better off anywhere else?
No.
Every factory in the Empire was the same.
Every job was the same.
Even if they ran, there was no paradise waiting for them.
They would be worked like cattle—
Until they died.
“Saint sir.”
Peter limped toward me, his face weary yet filled with kindness.
He gave me a sad smile.
“Please… just go.”
“You’ve done more than enough. There’s nothing more you can do for us.”
“.......”
“Thank you. For everything.”
Forcing a smile, Peter bowed slightly before turning to leave with his family.
The other workers followed suit.
They bowed their heads in gratitude—
Then walked away.
I clenched my fists so hard they shook.
Is this right?
Is this really right?!
All I did was heal people!
How does that justify this kind of cruelty?!
What crime did they commit?
Why?!
Why are they going this far?
Why are these bastards so filthy, so utterly shameless?!
“STOP!!!!”
I roared at the retreating workers.
They turned back to me with hollow, hopeless eyes.
Their ragged clothes, their slumped shoulders—
Everything about them screamed defeat.
I let their gazes settle on me as I slowly—
Stepped onto the wreckage of the shattered soup kitchen.
All eyes were on me.
In this moment—
I forgot about hell.
I forgot about the Goddess’s wrath.
I forgot about the power of Asmodeus that lurked within me.
There was only one thing left inside me.
Rage.
Pure, unfiltered rage.
Fine.
I’ll admit it.
Right now, I can’t fix this with my stupid eroge skills.
But you factory owners—
There’s something you don’t know.
I don’t just have eroge skills.
I’m a reincarnator.
I used my body modifications to amplify my voice.
And with every ounce of fury in my being, I roared—
“A SPECTER IS HAUNTING THE EMPIRE!!!!”
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