On The Other Side: I Quit Being Human

A set of rules that people follow prevent them from doing whatever their impulse tempts them. It is what keeps harmony in their environment; therefore, harsh punishments are given to those who violate it.

Rules are applied to everyone, so the reason why they are even made could be fulfilled: to create a harmonious and fair society. A group of people is even assigned to enforce the rule, so no one cheats their way around it.

The main goal for the creation of the rule is to maintain conductivity and keep things the way they are. This applies equally to everyone; whether they are a tyrant or a tyrannical leader, this is the reason why rules are created and enforced.𝑶𝗏𝓵xt.𝗇𝓔t

In a place where rules are absolute, where harsh punishments are delivered to those who commit a minor offense, the situation, more often than not, is unruly as any other place that doesn’t have its rules enforced. In places like this, rules are made in favor of the enforcer and the one in authority.

Nobles in this world have the exclusive right to decide how the people in their territory should live. As the owner of the territory, they are the reason why the people have homes and can sleep at night without worrying about a Demon attack; in return for that “courtesy,” they gain the right to dictate the people’s lives.

Having a sane ruler–one who thinks the way anyone does–is already bliss. Having a benevolent and competent ruler is a privilege that you should be happy about. Unfortunately, very few of the people who manage to become Noble are sane. A majority of them view the world differently, so they are often surprising, both in a good and bad way.

Sziera’s uncle, whose name I don’t even bother to remember, is one of the insane Nobles. He has a perverse way of viewing the world, which is not that rare, so the rules that he makes inflict a lot of suffering on the people but deliver him a great deal of satisfaction.

He is one among the many tyrannical and egoistical rulers but one that knows how to play the long game. He has a brilliant mind that contradicts the darkness filling his head.

“Ku-Ku-Ku! I see what is going on now. The bitter truth of reality has awoken you from your slumber, hasn’t it? You are pissed that you can no longer see the rainbow decorating your day-to-day life. This is the reason why you start caring about things like this, no?”

Uncaring to the blood drenching him from up to the toe, Sziera’s uncle who is on the brink of defeat lectures Neroel, the one who inflicted the injuries he sustains. Neroel’s face is unchanging but you can tell that he is by no means amused by what the old man said.

“Life has shown me what I have been missing. The curtain that separated me from the things that my father didn’t want me to see had been lifted. I realized the misfortune that befell me was nothing compared to what the others are enduring. My view has been broadened and, thus, I took a stance.”

“Standing beside a wannabe Hero and falling together with him–is this your stance?” Sziera’s uncle sneers.

“Look around you, bastard. Revel at how excited these people are watching you standing before the death’s door,” Neroel retorts. “You no longer have anyone that weeps for your death. You are the one falling here.”

Sziera’s uncle laughs mirthfully at Neroel’s words. He doesn’t say anything but I can tell what he is saying. He isn’t falling. He has never been up above, so he can’t fall. He is aware of the consequences of his action, so he can take defeat willingly. A commendable mindset for a detestable person.

People will say he is insane for the way he thinks but I think he is being rational. I do agree that he does things that people who uphold their morality will never do but he is way more likable compared to the other whiny and cowardly Nobles who are not ready to face the consequence of their doings.

“Now, finish me, Sir Neroel. Give these people what they want and let me die honorably,” he says, pointing his sword at Neroel with a gleeful smirk.

“Shameful! To think that someone like this is allowed to manage a territory…shameful!” Celia, who is standing beside me, remarks in bitter anger.

I watch as Neroel stares silently at Sziera’s uncle. Five seconds passed in silence before he turns to me and nods lightly. He is passing Sziera’s uncle to me. Through the Geas, I figure out the reason why: he doesn’t believe that the pain he inflicts will be enough to make Sziera’s uncle suffer. He passes the bastard to me because he is sure that I can make the bastard suffer.

Well, he is not wrong.

Pointing my left index finger at the bastard, I shoot out a tiny Mana sphere. It hits the bastard right in his solar plexus, destroying his Mana Pool. He keels over and throws up a mouthful of blood. I raise my left hand and motion for the people standing behind me to have a go at him.

None of them questions me if it is safe. They immediately rush at the bastard, their weapons–pitchforks, hoes, shovels, and machetes–raised threateningly above their heads.

“Hooh-rah!”

“Huh? What is–“

Clank!

The first person to reach the bastard hits his head with a hoe. No visible damage was done to his head but it still hurts him since he clutches his head dearly.

The others join in the fray a few seconds late. The place is soon filled with sounds of metal clashing against something hard. A faint groan can be heard among the people’s excited yelling. You can easily tell that the person is not having a good time by the amount of pain you can feel in his groan.

Weapon Masters practice Magic slightly differently from Mages. While Mages focus solely on remembering and mastering Spells, they temper their bodies with Mana and experiment with it to produce results that the Spells Mages learn can’t produce.

Sziera’s uncle is one, which is the reason why he doesn’t die easily even after losing his ability to use Mana. Had he been a better Weapon Master, these people wouldn’t even be able to scratch his skin with their “weapons.”

“Fuck you! This is for my wife and daughter who went crazy after you forced her to watch you rape her mother before killing her and raping her next!”

Crack!

After five minutes, a bone is finally broken. At this point, the people are already tired too. They stop their onslaught and take a step back to look at what they have done. Some are appalled and overwhelmed with disbelief, meanwhile, the rest are very proud of themselves.

The bastard’s face is completely disfigured. His limbs are barely attached–it is honestly surprising that they manage to hold on. His stomach was cut open; his intestines are jutting out of it. Blood is flowing out of the cuts on his body, painting the ground red.

Anyone will say he is dead already…

“Fuck! You can’t even do your job properly, you useless cunts!”

…but he is still alive.

Everyone is enraged but no one does a thing to him. They watch him as he agonizes over the fact that he is trampled by people whom he once trampled. He suffers more from it than the injuries they inflicted. They enjoy watching him in that state.

I take out a short sword from my Spatial Storage and throw it to the ground near the people. They turn to me in puzzlement but immediately understand what is happening the moment I cross my hands.

One of the people pulls the short sword out of the ground; much to my surprise, it is the young girl whom Neroel saved short after our landing. Her father immediately lifts the bastard’s head and holds it in place. The bastard resists, prompting the others to help.

When the bastard can’t move any longer, the young girl put the short sword she is holding before his neck. I expected her to hesitate for a few seconds but she immediately moves it back and forth vigorously.

“You little slut! How dare you!?”

The short sword is not a Relic but still a high-quality one. It doesn’t cut the bastard’s neck immediately because the girl using it is weak but it doesn’t take long until it is submerged in the bastard’s neck.

One minute full of gargling later, the bastard’s head is finally apart from the body.

Covered in blood, the people who are involved in the act cheer as the girl’s father raises the bastard’s head. Everyone is smiling in glee–at the bastard’s death and the freedom that they have obtained.

My squad and I watch from the side as the people cry and hug each other. They look like the aggressor due to the blood coloring them from top to bottom, but they also look like the victim with how relieved they are.

“They react more happily than they do when they hear a Legion of Cursed Creations is successfully decimated,” I remark in amusement. “They always act this way–it’s not my first time seeing it but I still can’t stop finding it amusing.”

“Master–“

I stop Neroel by raising my hand. At this moment, Celia steps forward. The people’s attention instantly turns to her. The place turns quiet as they look at her in wonder.

“Everyone, there is a truth that I want you to know…”

Celia de Antares, the Holy Maiden has made her choice.