Chapter 345: The Blessing of Human Order
Rot, ugliness, filth.
A stark contrast to the pristine, vibrant streets of the capital, the slums reeked of decay and mildew. Blackened water flowed through the gutters, the stench of spoiled food hung thick in the air, and swarms of revolting insects buzzed in every corner.
Though the city's common folk wore simple clothing, their lives were at least normal—they had clean garments, enough food to survive, and on special occasions, they could even indulge in delicacies usually beyond their means.
But just a street away from those bright, polished avenues lay a hellish scene.
And this was the capital of the Lionheart Kingdom, Lugunica. In poorer, more remote cities, the slums were surely even more horrifying.
However, Roy wasn't here to start a revolution. At most, he felt some pity for this ugly place as an embodiment of "human evil." Moreover, even if he wanted to establish a republic here, it would be impossible. The economic base determines the superstructure, and this world's civilization was relatively backward with a weak economic foundation. Even with the noblest intentions, nothing substantial could be achieved—at best, it would just replace one ruling class with another.
Then, it would inevitably fall back into the same vicious cycle: the nobility growing increasingly corrupt while the poor sank deeper into depravity.
"What a foul stench."
Roy covered his nose with his hand, his brow furrowing.
If circumstances demanded it, Roy could endure the stench, but since he wasn't yet in such dire straits, he had no intention of letting the revolting odor upset his stomach.
Using a simple spell, he isolated the unpleasant smell from himself. His crimson cardinal robes were ceremonial attire crafted by mages from the world of Campione, designed to repel filth, so he didn't have to worry about them getting soiled in the slums.
Still, Roy was beginning to doubt whether that half-elf truly lived here. Was this really a place fit for human habitation?
With skepticism in mind, Roy stepped into the slum.
His clean leather boots trod upon the filthy, stinking, and muddy ground, yet when he lifted his feet, they remained untainted. Unlike those who studied magic in pursuit of the Root, Roy simply treated it as a tool for convenience.
The slum was filled with emaciated people, their eyes vacant as if already dead, sitting before makeshift "homes" cobbled together from wood, garbage, and stones. Their gazes were lifeless, devoid of hope—though their bodies still drew breath, they were no different from corpses.
These were the pitiful souls crushed by life.
Of course, among them were also the lazy, content to drift aimlessly, lying atop piles of refuse in tattered rags that barely qualified as clothing, having long since given up on themselves.
Roy's attire and demeanor were utterly out of place in this slum. As he walked along the narrow paths, the people around him cast glances his way—some fearful, some wary, but most simply apathetic, watching his every move with vacant, lifeless eyes.
A few, upon seeing this unmistakable nobleman venturing alone into the slums, flashed looks of greed and malice.
But the moment their eyes met Roy's, they recoiled as if struck, writhing on the ground in agony, their anguished cries sending the others cowering into corners. It was then they realized—this nobleman was no ordinary man, but a mysterious mage!
Magic was something far beyond the reach of slum dwellers.
The slum's paths were labyrinthine, if they could even be called paths at all. More often than not, piles of garbage blocked the way.
In this desolate place, the only signs of life were the occasional laughter of children clad in rags, their bare feet kicking up dust. These children, emaciated and frail, knew nothing of life's hardships or human comparisons. Even in the filth and stench of the slums, their smiles remained pure and untainted.
Seeing this, Roy couldn't help but smile as well.
Though the fates of most of these children were already sealed—destined to become part of the numb, indifferent masses—a rare few might one day escape the slums and carve out their own futures.
Roy watched the children play for a while before his gaze settled on a man in his twenties, seated on a broken chair.
The man was filthy, his clothes faded beyond recognition, his skin rough. But unlike the others in the slum, his eyes still held a glimmer of hope.
Roy approached. The man shrank back at the sight of him, wariness and fear mingling in his gaze. When it became clear Roy was indeed heading his way, he forced a humble, ingratiating smile. "...M-my lord, how may I serve you?"
"I heard there's a half-elf here... silver-haired, to be precise."
Roy posed the question, then added the detail for clarity—just in case there was more than one half-elf in the slum.
The man lowered his head, shrinking further. "...M-my lord, there are some mixed-bloods here, but... but no half-elves. Certainly not a silver-haired one."
Roy studied the man quietly before suddenly smiling. "...You're lying."
As the man trembled, Roy turned his gaze to the laughing children and said in an eerily calm voice, "...One of those children must be yours, no?"
The man's body shook violently, and he dropped to his knees, sobbing. "...I—I lied! Please, my lord, don't hurt the children! I'll tell you everything! There is a silver-haired half-elf here..."
"Why did you lie to me?"
Roy looked down with interest at the sobbing man and asked.
"B-because I was afraid you might hurt her... That half-elf is truly kind. Even when she had barely enough to eat herself, she still shared her food with the children... I-I couldn't bear to see her harmed."
The man wept as he spoke.
After a moment of silence, Roy finally said slowly, "...Hmm, you're still human after all."
With that, he flicked his left hand, sending a beautiful, crystal-clear coin tumbling to land before the man.
It was a Holy Crystal Coin, the most valuable currency in the Lugnica Kingdom of Lionheart. Though when Roy first saw this currency, he simply called it a Holy Crystal.
"Take me to that half-elf, and this coin is yours."
The man hesitated, staring at the exquisite coin lying in the dirt before him. He didn't immediately reach for it, his face twisted in conflict.
"I understand you feel accepting my money would mean betraying that elf. But you should know—this slum is vast. You're certainly not the only one who knows where that half-elf is. There are plenty who'd gladly lead me to her."
"...So take it. I see hope for life in your eyes. This single coin is worth several months' income for an average family of three. With it, you can rent a proper home in the city for you and your child, wash up properly, get new clothes, eat well to regain your strength, then find honest work."
"I believe your life can change. No more barely surviving in these slums. Your child could have a future."
Every word Roy spoke etched deeply into the man's heart, making his breathing grow heavy. Thoughts of owning a home, a future with full meals, steady work—all assaulted his mind.
"Papa..."
From nearby, a filthy, emaciated little girl watched them with worried eyes, tears welling in her beautiful large eyes.
The man suddenly grabbed the coin before him and gritted his teeth. "...I'll take you there, sir!"
"A wise choice. Then I bless you—you will live happily!"
Roy's words carried the "Blessing of Human Reason." The man felt his body lighten as if happiness had already arrived, all shadows dispelled.