Chapter 113
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 113
The Lower District had been developed so haphazardly that planned zones were practically nonexistent. Naturally, it lacked any systematic infrastructure like the Upper District's Circulation Road. In truth, aerial vehicles were far more necessary down here than they ever were up there.
The people of the Lower District had been waiting for Fransek since the moment his parade passed through the gate. They belonged to the relatively well-off middle class.
The welcoming crowd cheered for Fransek with an enthusiasm that rivaled anything in the Upper District.
The parade was now veering off the Central Road. The atmosphere of the streets began to shift. Shabby, impoverished figures came into view, huddled between buildings so ancient they were practically rotting away.
Whirrrr!
Drones accelerated, leading the way.
Flying low, they swept past as if scanning the crowd, openly leveling their gun barrels at anyone with an unverified identity or a high risk profile, driving them back.
"Don't be too harsh, Iskan," Fransek said softly.
Iskan's lips barely moved as he whispered a command to the mobile command center. The drones retracted their barrels and switched to verbal warnings instead.
As the streets narrowed, the parade stretched into a long, thin line. Yet the crowd's curiosity only intensified.
People poked their heads out of buildings whose entrances and windows had been crudely warped by illegal expansions. Everything was chaotic and unpredictable.
"Is that... His Majesty the Emperor?"
"Long live His Majesty!"
"It's the Crown Prince, you idiot!"
Occasional curses drifted through the air. A good portion of the crowd had simply gathered to gawk, not even knowing who the parade was for.
It was quite a spectacle. State-of-the-art heavy drones wove seamlessly through the air without a single collision while the Empire's propaganda holograms lit up the surroundings. Beneath them, Imperial Guardsmen and elite soldiers marched in disciplined, rhythmic steps.
Even Fransek, who held a soft spot for the Lower District, had never ventured this deep. As a result, many in the crowd were witnessing a royal parade for the very first time.
— Suspicious individual spotted. Low-grade armament, but...
Radio chatter crackled incessantly.
The Lower District was full of people who were not in their right minds. Brain-damaged vagrants and drug-addled junkies stumbled dangerously close despite the warnings. Up ahead, an android was dragging away someone who had tried to block the path.
Phut.
I caught the faint, muffled sound of a gunshot.
Death was unfolding beneath the cover of the spectacle. Deep in the quiet alleys, Imperial Guardsmen were systematically eliminating potential threats. Disobey an order, and you died. Whether the target was brain-damaged or just temporarily high was of no concern to us.
The only thing that matters is Fransek's safety.
No matter how Fransek felt about the Lower District, many would die because of his visit today. The soldiers had to do whatever it took to prevent even the slightest mishap.
Screeech—boom!
Fireworks shot into the sky, their loud bangs masking the gunshots. The bursting colors captivated the crowd. Meanwhile, death quietly bloomed in the dark alleys. Lives were snuffed out, easily erased.
Does Fransek even know that people are dying right now because of him?
I glanced sideways. He was too busy rehearsing his speech to notice.
We arrived at our destination—one of the major plazas in the Lower District. I knew this place's usual state all too well.
Normally, homeless people would be crammed between the benches and monuments, reeking of filth. Near the public restrooms, dealers hawking colorful synthetic drugs would stand around with eerie, knowing grins. Men and women dressed in garish, vulgar outfits would wave with hollow smiles, peddling their bodies.
But today, every trace of that grim reality had been scrubbed away. The unnaturally pristine plaza was the work of the Imperial military. No doubt a fair amount of blood had been spilled to achieve this cleanliness.
The parade formed a tight perimeter around the plaza. At its very center stood Fransek and me.
Whirrrr.
The platform beneath us slowly began to rise. The eyes of the crowd rose with it.
Thump, thump.
My heart hammered as if I'd been struck by a sudden bout of acrophobia. My pupils dilated.
Expand your perception and sensory range, Luka.
I commanded my own body. Fransek was incredibly vulnerable right now. The universe was full of people with bizarre, inexplicable abilities. Who could have ever predicted that Rick would possess teleportation?
I wasn't the only one on edge. The air around Iskan and the Imperial Guardsmen had grown as heavy and cold as stone. They, too, had pushed their focus to its absolute limit.
— Luka, if worst comes to worst, you must protect His Highness even at the cost of your own body. As long as your brain remains intact, we can piece you back together.
Iskan's voice crackled in my ear.
"You don't even have to ask."
I muttered it just quietly enough that the sound wouldn't escape my helmet.
Whirrrr!
A massive hologram of Fransek projected upward from the center of the plaza, casting a brilliant glow over the entire area.
"O-Ohhhhh!"
"Whoaaaa!"
The crowd erupted. It looked as though a giant made of pure light was towering over the plaza. For some, this would be a sight they'd never forget for the rest of their lives.
"Our Akresia Empire..."
Fransek began. His speech here was completely different from the one he'd delivered in the Upper District.
Up there, he had spewed hatred, shouting about the atrocities committed by Bellato and Kora.
But down here, hatred for Bellato and Kora fell flat. These people were too busy surviving day to day to waste energy hating a distant enemy.
Instead, Fransek spoke of the Empire's meritocracy.
"...The path is open to you. Of course, from a distance, it may seem closed. If someone told you to find a door in pitch-black darkness, where you cannot see an inch ahead, you would struggle to find it even if it stood right in front of you. Light is distant, darkness is close, and adversity and hardship constantly weigh us down."
Slowly, more and more people began to listen. Their attention was no longer captured by the flashy spectacle, but by the weight of his words.
"But true Imperial subjects are forged in the harshest of environments. Our ancestors, exiled from Earth, tamed a barren wasteland of a planet. We started in the wilderness of Planet Novas and built this magnificent city. Our strength was born not of abundance, but of deprivation. And now..."
Fransek suddenly turned his gaze toward me. Right on cue, the holographic projectors adjusted, capturing my image.
Whirrrr!
A life-sized hologram of my entire body materialized right beside Fransek.
"Take off your helmet, Luka," Fransek said, switching off his microphone.
"So you planned to put me on the spot all along."
I grimaced beneath my visor. I knew exactly what he was trying to do.
"Not at all. I intend to make you a hero."
I couldn't refuse the command. Not with the eyes of the entire crowd fixed on us. To ignore him now would be to humiliate the royal family.
For now, I had to play along with his script, no matter how much I loathed it.
Hiss!
The seal connecting my helmet to my chest plate hissed as the pressure released. Cool outside air brushed against the back of my neck.
I slipped the helmet off and stared blankly at the crowd. Beside me, my service record began to scroll across the massive hologram.
Son of a bitch...
I wanted nothing more than to grab Fransek by the scruff of his neck and slam him face-first into the platform. Of course, doing so would get me summarily executed on the spot.
Fransek was laying bare my personal history and identity for everyone to see.
"Before you stands a boy who is the very definition of an Imperial subject! More Imperial than anyone—a true Imperial among Imperials!"
My achievements scrolled upward in glowing holographic text. It listed my major operations, my military medals, the battles I'd fought in, the elimination of the Ramones family, and even the slaying of the terrorist, Rick.
Most shocking of all, it detailed how I had executed a noble in a torture facility. To be precise, that had been Iskan's doing—but it seemed they had no intention of keeping it a secret any longer.
"He... he killed a noble? But that kid's from the Lower District, just like us!"
"What are you talking about? He's a noble."
"Are you blind? It says he was adopted after his talent was recognized, you idiot. He came out of an orphanage."
The display claimed I had personally slaughtered dozens of nobles, including the entire Ramones family. It was a lie wrapped in truth, but the fabrication was far too egregious.
Fransek grabbed my arm and raised it high.
"Whoaaaaaa!"
The sheer volume of the crowd's roar made the entire plaza vibrate.
A boy from the slums had rightfully judged and executed nobles. The crowd was whipped into a frenzy, clearly finding the revelation incredibly cathartic.
Seeing that feverish reaction, the soldiers' expressions hardened. The atmosphere was growing dangerously volatile.
The scroll of my achievements came to an end. Anyone with basic literacy could see that I was no ordinary soldier. To make matters worse, Fransek had embellished even my most trivial missions into legendary exploits.
"Using the fact that a commoner killed nobles as propaganda will only backfire," I whispered, keeping my voice far from the microphone.
Fransek offered a serene smile.
"I believe the positive impact will far outweigh the negative."
The people of the Lower District chanted Fransek's name and mine in turn. In this moment, Fransek truly looked like a champion of the poor.
Fransek's rogue move.
Even Iskan looked stunned. Meanwhile, the nobles and officials accompanying the parade were frantically messaging their respective houses and superiors to report this sudden development.
"Was this your brother's idea as well?"
Fransek merely shrugged. Sensing the crowd's cheers beginning to subside, he resumed his speech.
"Lucaus Custoria—or rather, Luka, as he is known. This boy proved his worth and earned his place at my side. I believe Luka is a hero who embodies the very spirit of our Empire! To a hero like him, a harsh environment is not an obstacle, but merely a backdrop against which to prove his talent and excellence. Just as our ancestors did!"
Fransek placed his hands on my shoulders and gave a firm, approving nod.
"My duty is to guard you, so I'll be putting my helmet back on."
I pulled the helmet back over my head. It was already too late. My name and profile would soon spread to every corner of Akbaran.
By tomorrow, everyone would know my face. Gabriel, Gilda, Grace... they would all learn exactly who I was.
Grit.
The moment the helmet sealed, I bit down hard on my lip. Unable to contain my fury, I gnawed on it until the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.
"Luka! Luka! Lukaaaa!"
I was nothing more than a propaganda tool for the Empire. The crowd chanted my name, but they weren't cheering for me. They were cheering for the fictional hero Fransek had manufactured.
"True Imperial subjects are born from the bottom, not the top! Incompetence must be condemned, and talent must be recognized, no matter where it originates!"
Fransek gestured up and down, delivering a fiercely provocative speech. While not treasonous to the Empire, it was blatantly anti-noble. He was practically declaring the current nobility incompetent. Well, to be fair, he wasn't entirely wrong.
Fransek's speech drew to a close, and the massive hologram of his figure flickered out. Yet the crowd's roaring cheers showed no signs of dying down.
"I apologize if I offended you, Lucaus Custoria. But I need you to stand with me. There are revolutions in this world that must start from the top, not the bottom."
...But before you can even begin your revolution, you'll die at the hands of your father and brother.
The words nearly spilled past my lips. Misinterpreting my silence as anger, Fransek rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and continued.
"You are far too talented to remain hidden in the shadows. I want you to be the symbol, the icon of my reign. I know you can do it."
My throat felt dry and tight. To me, it was like listening to a dead man speak. Fransek's face looked like a hollow skull.
"...I'll do my utmost."
That was the only response I could offer.
Fransek reached out, clasped my hand in both of his, and beamed.