Chapter 203
Chapter 203
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 203
Chapter Title: The Firing Squad
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Sarucho thought to himself as he saw the soldiers lined up with rifles in hand.
'Ah, they called in the soldiers to scare them.'
Sarucho knew Garil's plan.
He had said that even if the police interfered to some extent, he would raise his voice.
Sarucho had been cheering him on inwardly, but with the soldiers blocking the approach to the square, even that seemed impossible now.
'Too bad, but what can you do.'
If Garil got caught like this, it would lead to some real trouble.
He'd face police questioning, and if his luck was bad, a beating too. But since Sarucho knew all their internal details, it would expose just how powerless and weak these moderate revolutionaries were.
'Maybe this will make the mayor or the factory owners aware of working conditions. It could serve as a strategy in its own way.'
Public opinion might shift a little.
Sarucho knew a few reporters who frequented the temple, so he could drop a hint about everyone's silence on the matter.
'Will things change even a bit?'
Of course, all of that was just Sarucho's fleeting delusion.
The first row of soldiers took kneeling aim, while the second row stood and trained their weapons on the protesters.
The crowd began to murmur uneasily.
Sarucho waited, believing they wouldn't fire without warning or even attempting dialogue.
The commander-like figure raised his sword high, then slashed it down.
"Fire!"
Smokeless powder, newly invented beyond the black powder era, was truly 'revolutionary.'
The leap from muzzle-loaders to breech-loaders for black powder firearms, followed by casings and firing pins, had dramatically improved firing rates—but it exploded with smokeless powder.
Black powder inevitably produced smoke, evidence of massive impurities created when the powder ignited and exploded.
These impurities left residue in the barrel along with the smoke, slowing firing rates and damaging weapon durability.
Smokeless powder produced a purer explosion with fewer impurities, meaning it packed far more power than the same amount of black powder.
It supplanted black powder and, by easing strain on the barrel, allowed rifles to fire faster and more bullets.
Because it was better at killing people.
The bullets from the automatic rifles struck the protesters directly.
The first volley emptied twenty-round magazines, felling dozens who never rose again.
After the deafening hail of gunfire, screams filled the street.
The protesters broke and ran, but they were still well within effective range of the automatic rifles.
This time, the soldiers fired at their backs.
Sarucho, standing stunned, was shoved aside by fleeing protesters screaming in terror.
He noticed his priestly robes were wet and touched them.
They were soaked in blood.
As Sarucho turned to look at the person who had shoved past him, a hand reached from the alley and yanked him in.
"Hey, Sarucho. What are you doing out there?"
It was High Priest Kan.
Sarucho had to look down, given Renar's short stature.
Kan said,
"What? Are you hurt?"
"Ah, no. It's not mine. This is someone else's."
"What were you thinking, caught in the middle of protesters? I was watching from afar when someone mentioned a priest in a robe among them, so I hurried over. The soldiers wouldn't shoot a priest, sure, but getting trampled in that stampede would've been bad."
Sarucho, pale-faced, said,
"High Priest, what is this?"
"What do you mean?"
"Those soldiers. They're shooting at people."
Sarucho glanced out of the alley.
The protesters had fled, but the street was littered with the fallen.
Some still lived, bleeding out.
As Sarucho moved toward them, Kan gripped his hand tight.
"Have you lost your mind?"
"Pardon?"
"They're all revolutionaries. The ones you infiltrated, gathered intel on how they organized protests—that bunch."
Sarucho hesitated before replying,
"But they're the moderate revolutionaries, aren't they? I explained it all to you."
"Come on, kid. Get your head straight. From the Union Kingdom's view, moderate or radical doesn't matter. A revolutionary is a revolutionary—what's the difference?"
"No, they're just ordinary people. Let go. There are wounded out there."
As Sarucho tried to step out, Kan yanked him back hard.
The soldiers advanced, sorting the living from the dead and arresting the survivors.
Kan said,
"Stay here, or you'll invite ugly misunderstandings. Come with me."
"But..."
"The soldiers will handle those people."
Sarucho hesitated but followed Kan's lead.
He still trusted Kan.
He couldn't let go of the hope that this was all some kind of accident.
As they walked the alley, Kan spoke.
"Revolutionaries are all ordinary folk?"
"Yes."
"Sure, maybe."
"Maybe?"
"But what do you think happens later?"
"Pardon?"
"Humans are insatiable creatures. Get one thing, and they'll greedily want another."
"..."
"No—having gotten one, they'll think they can get more. That's human greed. The greed of ordinary people."
Once sure no one was around to eavesdrop, Kan stopped and faced Sarucho.
"You think other cities haven't seen this?"
"...Pardon?"
"People divide revolutionaries into hardliners and moderates. Sure, there are hardliners somewhere, Sarucho—puppets of that wicked Empire and its Demon God. But if what the high priests from other regions told me is true, most revolutionaries are moderates. Just ordinary folks, like you say."
"Ordinary people... unconnected to the Empire or Demon God?"
"Yeah. Folks who work all day, buy a bottle of cheap rotgut at a dive bar for their fun, worry about their kids starving. Ordinary people."
As Sarucho fell silent, Kan added,
"No, wait—not ordinary. Tasteless, maybe."
"They're all the same people."
"Don't be daft. How are people all the same? You Bugbears equal to us hairless humans?"
"But..."
Kan waved him off.
"Sarucho, I'm not here to argue. Just stating facts. The winds in the Union Kingdom are ill. Egalitarianism, revolution—all dangerous ideas."
"I know that."
"No, you don't get it. Ordinary people? Maybe. But even that moderate revolution, those moderates—it's what the Empire and Demon God want. I get it, you mean well now. Longer breaks, compensation for injuries, a bit more pay. Sounds reasonable. But after they get it all? Then what?"
Kan pointed at Sarucho with his index finger.
"Then they come for your bowl and mine. If some work less and get more pay, someone else works more for less. Factory owners suffer first, but everything's connected. Revolution succeeds, we all lose. Can you give it all up?"
Sarucho said nothing.
"So moderates or not, revolutionaries must be uprooted. More precisely, not just them, but anyone who might become one. Considering that, it's hardly excessive."
Sarucho stayed quiet, and Kan nodded slowly.
He thought Sarucho had accepted it all.
Kan patted his arm.
"You're young, narrow-minded. Compassion's a priestly virtue, sure. But don't wield it recklessly. Understand?"
"...I understand."
"Good. Go home and rest today. Actually, take the whole Unity Festival off. Oh, right—they want to commend you for aiding the Teeth operation so well. Expect a reward."
"Understood."
Sarucho turned and walked away.
But Kan hadn't guessed his thoughts at all.
He mistook resignation for acceptance, unaware his words had ignited a fire in Sarucho's heart—or that "I understand" meant grasping the world's cruelty, not the High Priest's point.
By the time Sarucho returned to the revolutionary hideout, the Teeth agents had already swept through.
But traces remained of those who had protested and regrouped there.
Bloodstains.
The next day's front-page headline was the mayor's Unity Day speech.
The revolution story was buried on page four, framed as a minor disturbance where a rebel plot was foiled on the street. No mention of the death toll.
Sarucho wasn't disappointed.
Having infiltrated deeply, he knew acquaintances of the leaders.
But most he couldn't meet.
Some had fled Shuvanel, others dragged to labor camps as associates. The rest feared and shunned him.
They knew he was the traitor.
Months later.
The Teeth and the Church of the Wrathful One deemed Shuvanel cleansed of revolutionaries and ended the probes. All linked—sympathizers too—were hunted down, killed, or sent to camps.
In that time, Sarucho received his commendation and a fine medal.
The day after a brief newspaper article on the priest who informed on rebels, a halfling woman stopped before Sarucho in a dark alley.
"You're Sarucho?"
"Yes."
She drew a pistol and aimed at his chest.
"I'm Dain. You killed my friend."
"...Your friend's name?"
"Garil."
Sarucho eyed the petite halfling Dain.
She was missing one hand.
The friend Garil once mentioned, maimed in a factory accident.
Sarucho raised his hands and said,
"Are you a revolutionary too?"
"...And if I am?"
"I've been looking for revolutionaries. Thought there were none left in this city."
"I was in another city. Came back when I heard Garil died. For revenge. ...Looking for us? Definitely a Teeth lackey."
Sarucho said,
"I didn't kill Garil."
"Knew you'd say that. But he died because of your tip-off."
"Is that enough for you?"
"What?"
Sarucho looked up.
"There were soldiers with guns, agents on the hunt. Temples aided it all, and faithful planned it. But you skip them to kill me—because I'm the only one you can?"
She couldn't deny the truth.
Dain cocked the hammer and snapped,
"Shut up. Trying to buy time? Won't work. You die here."
"Kill me, but hear this: I'm not seeking revolutionaries to denounce them, but to apologize. If given another chance, I won't repeat my mistake."
Dain sensed truth in his words but couldn't trust them.
More than that, she doubted any chance for change.
The revolutionary spark was fading.
No more revolutions, perhaps.
That's why she chose personal vengeance over the cause.
"Facing the barrel makes you want to live, huh? Too late."
As Sarucho opened his mouth, Dain pulled the trigger.
She checked for death but heard distant police whistles.
Her bullet hit Sarucho's chest, but winter layers blunted it, and it cracked ribs without killing him.
Dain saw the assault report and figured she'd be caught soon.
But the next paragraph made her doubt her eyes.
Sarucho hadn't testified about Dain.
He'd been shot by a robber with a pistol, who fled with his wallet as police approached.
Police assumed the thief targeted him after hearing of his reward money.
'That revolutionary talk... was real?'
On the day Sarucho left the hospital, he met Dain again.
Dain said to him,
"I'm not satisfied."
"...You?"
"When I aimed at you, you asked if killing you would satisfy me. Remember?"
"Yes."
Sarucho nodded.
Dain said,
"No. Shooting you didn't satisfy me."