A Lesson in Cruelty

“How much?”

“Right, there’s no need for bloodshed, is there?”

“I asked how much.”

“One hundred gold per person. Four of you, so four hundred gold.”

It wasn’t a large sum, but it felt wasteful to give away free money. I wouldn’t mind if I were giving it out of generosity, but to hand it over to mere bandits?

Wouldn’t it be better to just kill them? I disliked magic, but their equipment suggested they were low-level. Something like [Wind Sucker] should be more than enough.

As I tried to lift my free hand, Faust quickly darted forward and grabbed it.

“Sir Haut, let’s just give them the money and send them away. Aren’t you currently in that… ‘Void’ state?”

“Is that what you all want?”

The three exchanged glances before nodding. These were the same people who’d once complained that even a single gold was too much; if they were insisting I pay this much, I truly had no choice.

I asked Faust to release my hand, then retrieved 400 gold from my inventory and tossed it to the bandit leader.

“Now, move aside.”

However, the group showed no intention of moving. Of course. Just because an NPC bandit demands and receives money doesn’t mean they’ll all simply leave. Statistically, about 20-30% of them will still attack even after taking the money.

The leader, standing at the front of the group, drew his sword.

“You gave it up too easily. Do you have more?”

“Do I have to give you more?”

“It would be nice if we could have it all, while we’re at it.”

I’d heard that good-aligned characters, when accompanying you, tend to attract more attacks. Was that truly the case?

It was a shame I hadn’t been able to test it, always traveling alone. Now that I had companions, I couldn’t exactly experiment with how enemies reacted when they weren’t around.

“No! Sir Haut!”

“Don’t do anything! We’ll handle it!”

“Th-that’s right! No head-pulling, absolutely not!”

Just as the bandit group was about to charge, the three companions instead clung to me, trying to hold me back. The bandits, who had just drawn their swords, stared at us with bewildered expressions, utterly confused by the situation.

“Is killing them really that bad?”

“At-at the very least, no head-pulling…!”

I should have used an axe. The bare-handed motion must have been too much. In that case, I’d have to try a slightly more moderate approach. I rarely used magic as it didn’t fit my concept, but they seemed to dislike me killing.

As I raised a hand, the three turned deathly pale and desperately clung to me, but even their efforts couldn’t stop me. They were simply too low-leveled, their strength stats pitifully inadequate.

What did I do? I simply used a telekinesis spell. The six bandits instantly floated into the air.

“Wh-what is this?”

“W-what kind of ma-mage is in a backwater like thiiiis—!?”

Such a fuss over mere telekinesis. Is the NPC intelligence level truly that low? For them to be so shocked by an elementary spell that their attack animations were canceled, they must genuinely be low-level.

I vigorously shook the men I had suspended in the air. Everything they were carrying clattered to the ground: weapons like swords, various trinkets, and even their money.

Initially, the men screamed in surprise, but after a while, they withered. Some even started retching, and after being held and shaken for a considerable time, they slumped like corpses.

“They’re really weak. Their stamina seems to have been completely drained just from being shaken in the air.”

“Uhm, Sir Haut? You can stop now…”

“I’ve never seen such weaklings before, it’s fascinating. I want to see if I can shake them to death.”

“Pl-please, spare our lives.”

“It’s fine, isn’t it? No blood is being spilled.”

Could I apply this further? Since it wasn’t a direct attack, if they died, it might be registered as a natural death. That could be useful for assassinations or other playstyles.

When I played an assassin before, I once pushed an NPC off a terrace by obstructing their path, causing them to die. But back then, a recognition animation appeared.

Even a mere push from me was recognized as an attack. But this is magic. While offensive magic is instantly recognized the moment an NPC is hit, telekinesis is fundamentally an elementary, general interaction spell. If I played it right, it might just work.

“I agree with killing them, but… after tormenting them like this, wouldn’t it be better to just take their weapons and give them a chance at rehabilitation?”

“You’re evil-aligned, a thief and an assassin. Why are you telling me to spare them?”

“I only kill when it’s for work or necessary. I don’t experiment for fun like you, Sir Haut.”

“I only kill when necessary too. Which means, right now, my curiosity is more important than anything else.”

Lately, it feels like too many things are telling me I’m bad. From demons telling me not to come to hell, to being treated like a madman by evil-aligned classes who kill people and steal things.

I swept up all the items scattered on the ground, put them into my inventory, and then lowered the bandits back down.

“Don’t ever do this again, understand? If I see you next time, I’ll pull your head off while you’re still alive… Hmm. On second thought, if I pull your head off, you’d just die instantly, so it wouldn’t be scary.”

The bandits, now on the ground, could only breathe. Two of them were completely unconscious, convulsing with foam at their mouths.

I nudged the bandit leader, who seemed to have a bit more stamina left, with my foot, flipping him over so he could see me.

“If I catch you robbing again, I’ll flay you alive and slice you into sashimi. Then I’ll strip your spine and muscles, separate your ribs, sprinkle them with salt, and cast a regeneration spell on you—just enough to keep you from dying. You’ll regenerate just enough to breathe, in immense pain, unable to move, your bones rattling as you live forever as a feeding station for wild animals. So, at the very least, don’t rob anyone here, understood?”

At my words, the bandits’ faces drained of all color, yet they still managed to shriek in agreement at each other. They couldn’t even stand properly, practically crawling as they tried to escape.

“Hey, aren’t you going to take your friends? Are you just going to abandon them?”

They didn’t seem to hear me. They were too busy fleeing. The bandit leader, at least, paused as he ran. Hesitating between me and his two fallen comrades, he eventually turned back from his escape, grabbed the legs of the unconscious pair, and dragged them into the bushes.

“Shall we go now?”

Jack was merely gaping, like a goldfish. Nocturne asked me, his expression incredibly subtle.

“Sir Haut, was what you said earlier truly possible?”

“What?”

“Th-that, stripping bones from the spine…”

I couldn’t perform such a delicate procedure. I shrugged and replied.

“Flaying them alive is possible. Usually, if you strip the muscles from the spine, you can separate them, but they bleed out and die before that happens. If you just skin them and enchant it with a 5% recovery spell, you can create a state where they won’t quite die. If you leave them like that… they wouldn’t die from just being gnawed on, right?”

Someone in the game once experimented with whether monsters could be farmed. They reportedly fed them humans. They would abduct a few NPCs, flay them, and then enchant them with health recovery spells to create an automatic feeding farm.

They also tried experimenting with other animals and monsters. Animals were too weak and died no matter what they tried, while monsters were difficult to control regarding their recovery. They would occasionally escape or fight with the other farmed monsters, making it too cumbersome, so the player eventually gave up.

“Y-you, you tried that yourself?”

“No. I’m not interested in such things. A friend of mine did it.”

“What exactly does your friend do?”

“Hmm, the last I heard, he became an apostle of ‘Divan of Madness,’ one of the Seven Evils.”

Divan of Madness is classified as an evil deity, one of the Seven Evils. However, in this world, there’s no such thing as absolute good or evil, only human standards.

Divan of Madness, as the name suggests, represents madness, but also governs properties like pleasure and addiction. If there’s something enjoyable, he freely bestows blessings upon it. The problem is that most who receive these blessings go mad from the excess.

“Uh… your friends seem quite extraordinary too.”

“No, this is normal, isn’t it? He’s a good person. He just got backstabbed and became twisted, that’s all.”

I don’t quite recall which god’s apostle my friend played before. He was excited to be invited to his god’s paradise, went to visit, got backstabbed, and almost quit the game. Apparently, that god was incredibly suspicious, constantly tormenting him and asking if he truly believed, then killed an NPC he cherished. My friend eventually killed that god and switched to Divan of Madness.

“The god he believed in killed the person he cherished most, saying he shouldn’t love anyone but the god himself. So, my friend killed that god and became an apostle of Madness.”

“Killed a god, you… wait, that’s…”

“I heard it took a long time to do. I wouldn’t go that far, personally.”

A god’s power is fundamentally derived from belief. I don’t recall if it was a major deity like one of the Nine Great Sages or Seven Evils, but even lesser gods are not easy to kill. You can kill them, but if their divinity is maintained, they’ll resurrect. It’s difficult to kill them completely.

To weaken a god’s belief and kill them completely in the game requires an immense amount of time, effort, and a well-devised strategy. It’s a truly bothersome and difficult task, but he did it.

He’s an extraordinary person. Truly befitting of the Pants Squad. I’m just a lazy bum who only fights, so I’m still a regular member.

“If it were me, I would have drastically boosted the divinity of an opposing god, eradicated that entire lineage, and then summoned the deceased back to paradise. To go through all that bothersome work just to be satisfied with killing a single god… what a waste.”

If you’re going to spend the same amount of time, wouldn’t that be better? But there’s nothing as foolish as interfering with someone else’s playstyle. In reality, I would have probably dabbled for a bit out of curiosity, then quit due to the bother.

“Indeed, such things are cumbersome and annoying. I imagine he’s probably feeding shotguns to demons in hell right now.”

“Shotgun… what’s that?”

“It’s a weapon.”

Now that I think about it, my friend hasn’t logged in much recently. He apparently rushed off to play an old game remake that came out. Something about showing the demons of hell the madness of humanity. Not everyone can play one game for as long as I do.

Of course, I play other games too. Even though I log into 『The Garden』 every day, if a new game comes out, I naturally have to try it. Because it’s fun.

“Is that person also hunting demons?”

“He went straight down to hell. Hunting only those who come to the surface wasn’t enough for him.”

“My god, are there truly so many mad people in the world…?”

“Only he is mad. I’m not mad.”

“Ah, yes… I see.”

What, that’s a lackluster answer? I don’t know why they’re acting like this after asking and getting an answer. It’s better than trembling in fear like before, but could you please not look like you’ve seen a ghost?

“Hold my hand.”

When I extended my hand, everyone just looked at each other hesitantly. What’s wrong? Just hold it.