"Do you truly believe in the justice of the empire and the church?" a young man covered by a black robe asked the people in front of him.
Young and old, men, women, children, all dressed in patched loose coarse cloth.
They looked at themselves, then at the ground around them.
Small roads that could fit one to three people, huts on all sides, dirty trails of water flowing around the corners.
Stench they couldn't even smell after the long years of suffering.
"The war with the devils of the abyss has ended ten years ago. In the month year, they gifted us food and some cloth.
But after just two years, they send us away from the city, telling us we would be part of the 'outer city' after expansion.
We don't live in the city. Those gates have been closed to us. Now we remain in these slums, awaiting the judgements of gods.
But haven't you seen? Haven't you heard? Haven't you felt?
The war god has ordered bloodshed. Arenas all over the city were built, small and large. How many of those recruiters bait us with their promises, only for us to end up being blatantly murdered for a crowd to see?"
"But-" one of the young men in the crowd, weak and skinny, yet with a small spark of hope in his eyes.
"Those warriors trained for the arena can kill us with a single swipe of their sword. Do you think there is a chance? Heh, that's just show, just to make it more entertaining.
And what then? What will you do after? All those that won have become gladiators in the end, without exception.
Gladiators who would have honour and might, until they entered the arena once more.
They always do."
The young man stepped back, the spark in his eyes dimmed.
An older lady raised the stick in her hand "The god of life-"
The man hidden in black cloth interrupted "The god that requires the sacrifice of his believers?
How many groups of slum folk have you seen sacrifice themselves for the opportunity to enter the kingdom of god?
Yet, no one knows whether they entered.
When the priests died, there would be golden glow all over their body, rising into the sky.
No slum folk has ever been given golden light!"
The lady stepped back and before another person could step up, the man instantly shook his head.
"The goddess of justice has never responded to us folks!
Those lords, the moment they feel 'injustice' and 'unfairness', they scream for the goddess. Her priests rush to clear the conflict and ensure 'peace'.
But, what about us?
Those lords, how many slum folk have they humiliated? How many have their beaten? How many have they killed?
Numerous! Countless! Even lake Valeen couldn't fill the corpses of their victims!"
The man calmed down and said slowly "Do not believe in gods, their help is not our power. Believe in yourself, believe in the people. The lords are nothing-"
Just as he man wanted to continue, there was a clattering sound from the road leading north.
Everyone's faces became fearful, their bodies shaking.
The young man shook his head and said in a low voice "Disperse. Don't forget what I have told you, tell others about this. Do not believe in the gods, believe in yourself!"
Afterward, he turned around and left.
The people below were no slower.
They might be timid, but having lived in this slum for so long, they all knew how to survive.
…
On the other hand, the young man was quickly sprinting out of the slums, leaving the range of the city wholly.
He moved fast, the wind whirling slightly around him, revealing his face for a moment.
It was a pale white face shining in the light of the moon, his eyes moving rapidly in the darkness, seeing through everything.
The sounds behind him stopped soon as he left the city – the slums had no gateway, open to the outside, barely protected by makeshift sharp wooden fences.
He jumped over the fence and left the city for a distance.
When he had left the range of the slums light, he stopped near a tree.
He took off his hood, revealing his appearance – a young man with a pale white face, purple eyes and white hair.
His abnormal appearance, although outstanding, made it easy to spot in a crowd.
Especially the scar between his eyebrows, perfectly even, making it eerie.
The young man smiled as he touched over this scar "Alas, if it wasn't for this scar, would I be in so much trouble all this while?"
Then his smile had a tint of murderous intent "And if it wasn't for them, would I take the risk?
Hmph, I was willing to sacrifice my own comfort for the greater good, but after all these years, they just ignored their believers!
These…" he wanted to curse, but considering the power of gods, he feared they might hear it and punish him, so he stopped.
The anger in his eyes hadn't disappeared even after becoming quiet.
As a child born between a human and a demon, he knew he wouldn't live a good life in the world controlled by gods – but he thought at least the normal people would.
The pain he felt when he saw one friend after another die, was unbearable.
He was still young and couldn't do anything, but now, he couldn't accept it.
As a reincarnator, he had no cheat… or maybe his identity as a half-demon was supposed to be a cheat, but he never used his abilities.
Or rather, he hadn't even awakened them.
How could he?
His demonic powers would definitely alert the church; he couldn't take the risk of using them.
Even though this is the case… once he tried doing so in the wilderness, but the result was the same.
Barely a second after opening his demonic magic eye, he would faint.
He didn't even know what this eye could do – his father only told him that it was the eye of their demon clan.
Their demon clan was a weak one, and the eye's abilities were weak too, so weak that their real use was always ignored, using their basic higher perception to scout the way forward.
Although it was weak, Ludwig felt that any power would be better than no power…
Just as he was contemplating whether to try again, suddenly, a crow flew towards him silently.
He turned to the crow; vigilance spread across his face.