Chapter 497: An Unexpected Turn
"You ask me why I'm so down? Hah... things have been rotten to the core lately. They're all just a bunch of maggots!"
With that, Raj slammed his wine glass down, his voice low and venomous.
Asher pressed on, coaxing: "Oh? What do you mean? From what I hear, the Empire’s been booming these past few years."
Raj burped, his mood suddenly surging into a feverish excitement. "Booming? The Dragon-Blooded nobles are the ones raking in the profits. What’s it got to do with us workers? I work from dawn till dusk, handle hundreds of rifles every day—but even if those rifles net millions, I still only get one Golden Nael a month. Meanwhile, those so-called Important Figures? All they have to do is lie on a sofa, play at being noble, and they’re handed thousands of Golden Nael without lifting a finger!"
His voice trembled with rage, shaking with emotion.
"And the Imperial Bank folks? They’re vampires too! Half a year ago, I borrowed money from them to buy a house in the Istaliala Outer Ring.
Now I’ve lost my job. They don’t just send debt collectors—they’re trying to evict me! That house… it took every last penny I had!"
Asher echoed softly: "That’s truly outrageous."
But then he tilted his head, feigning concern: "Still, you’re a worker at the Military Factory, aren’t you? How come you’re out of work?"
Raj let out a bitter laugh, sipping more wine. "The foreman said I was slacking off—distracted, always spacing out. And just as the Stellarfallen were about to return, he threw me out."
His voice cracked with fury, foam from his beer spraying into the air.
"What right does he have to judge me? We work ourselves to the bone every day, while he just strolls around and earns ten times our wages! Why should I suffer?"
Asher instantly adopted a look of righteous indignation. "These people… they deserve to die!"
"Exactly!"
"Bankers, factory owners, overseers—these are the maggots devouring the Empire!"
Raj slammed his glass onto the table, his face flushed crimson, as if releasing a pent-up storm.
Seeing his anger rise, Asher leaned in, lowering his voice to a whisper, probing: "Have you ever thought… why you ended up like this?"
Raj still flushed, swaying his glass. "It’s that damned Yelson, the supervisor! One tiny mistake, and he fires me!"
Asher patted his shoulder, then gestured toward the sky, his tone deep and hypnotic: "I mean… if the Empire’s order is so unjust, then who was the one who created it in the first place?"
He trailed off, staring intently into Raj’s eyes, waiting.
"Of course…"
"Wait… you mean—"
Raj’s eyes snapped wide open, a jolt shooting through him.
He didn’t know why—perhaps it was instinct, survival. But in that moment, the haze of drunkenness cleared. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
Because he understood.
This stranger… was hinting at Rebellion against the Supreme King Kai Xiusu.
Even though Raj usually scoffed at the propaganda from the Ministry of Propaganda, even though he had little loyalty to King Kai Xiusu and sometimes even resented him, one thing was carved into his bones: fear.
After all, the Imperial Guard’s rifles and Nocturne’s poison-tipped daggers weren’t just for show.
"Phew… I almost said it out loud," Raj thought, heart pounding. He pressed a hand to his chest, exhaling deeply.
Asher noticed the hesitation. Leaning in close, he murmured into Raj’s ear:
"Don’t worry, Raj. Speak your true thoughts. Think about who’s really responsible for your life like this."
But Raj was now more alert than ever. His muscles tensed as he studied the stranger beside him—gray cloak, odd approach, carefully crafted words.
Then it hit him.
This man… was likely a spy.
Raj’s heart hammered against his ribs—not just from fear, but from a wild, electric thrill.
In the daily newspaper’s “Imperial Dream” serial, his idol—Baron George—had risen from nothing by reporting spies, clawing his way up until he became a noble Dragon-Blooded.
After losing his job, being kicked out of his home… was this finally his chance to turn everything around?
Reporting a spy meant at least fifty Golden Nael in bonus. If he delivered vital intelligence, he could become a First-Class Citizen—live in luxury, enjoy privileges beyond imagination.
Then he could clear his debts, reclaim his house… maybe even become a factory owner himself. His entire life could be rewritten.
"Maybe… I could become a great man like Baron George!"
Raj thought to himself, his gaze on Asher now alight with feverish excitement—almost frenzied.
This wasn’t just some drunkard. This was the key to changing his fate.
Asher sensed the shift in Raj’s mood. He smirked inwardly, convinced he’d successfully stirred the man’s rage.
"Come on, Raj. Don’t be afraid. Say the name. Name the one who built your suffering."
"Trust me," he whispered, "I’ll give you power. Power to make every one of them pay."
"Alright," Raj nodded, tense, sweat dripping from his brow, barely holding back his excitement.
Revenge—that word rang in his ears.
He’d heard it before in Empire proclamations. It was the call of the Deep Abyss Demon.
For the past half-year, the Empire had placed enormous value on demon reports. A single hunter who uncovered a demon had been rewarded with hundreds of Golden Nael. Rumor had it he now ran a thriving shop in Northwind Keep, living like a king.
But high reward meant high risk. Demons were deadly. One misstep, and you’d lose your life.
The thought made Raj’s legs tremble. His face froze, sweat pooling at his nose.
But Asher mistook his fear for hesitation—fear of Imperial retribution.
"Raj, don’t be afraid," he said, voice dripping with promise. "Think of the wealth I’ll give you. The strength. The power beyond imagination."
Just as he began to weave more lies, a sharp, cracking sound cut through the air.
Clang!
Suddenly, a drunken Ogre in the tavern had smashed a wine glass straight into the head of a Great Goblin.
Glass shards flew everywhere. The Great Goblin screamed in agony, clutching his bleeding skull.
"Damn Ogre! What the hell do you think you’re doing?"
The Ogre, still swaying, slurred: "Mm’ruk can do whatever he wants! Red-skinned little goblin!"
"You’re dead!"
The Great Goblin lunged forward, tackling the drunk. They rolled across the floor, punching and cursing. Around them, other Great Goblins and Ogres glared at each other, some already drawing pistols from their belts.
"Stop it! Stop it!"
"The Public Order Unit’s coming!"
The tavern owner rushed forward, shouting for help. Moments later, Tiefling Constabulary soldiers arrived, swiftly entering the chaos.
"Silence!"
"Public fighting is forbidden—especially on Coronation Day!"
The soldiers advanced with long spears, pointing them at the struggling combatants.
Bang!
A gunshot echoed. The bullet tore through the ceiling, leaving a jagged hole. The muzzle of the rifle glinted in the dim light. The fight instantly froze.
"I didn’t mean to… I was just drunk," the Ogre mumbled, releasing the Great Goblin and staggering to his feet, hands raised, face burning red.
The tavern fell silent.
The Peacekeepers pulled out paper and pens, scribbling furiously as they recorded names and statuses.
Then—out of nowhere—a drunken Human staggered in, tripped over a wine bottle, and crashed to the floor.
Thud!
Still on his knees, he raised a shaking hand, pointing wildly at the gray-cloaked figure sitting a few tables away.
"Grab him! That one’s a demon!"
The tavern erupted in chaos.
(End of Chapter)
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