The world is diverse. Osian had never deeply contemplated this saying until now. But now he sensed it was time to do so. "Down with the corrupt government!" "Cut off all the heads of the wealthy! Kill them all!" Cries filled with indignation spread like tearing fabric. The tragedy of District 17, the desperate screams yearning for the truth of that day pierced clearly into his ears. People had gathered in one place, holding pickets and filling the streets with their protest. 'What an absolute mess.' This was originally a street with heavy foot traffic. Back then, most were workers dragging their feet, but this time was different. It wasn't just workers. People with regular jobs had come out, and children and elderly could be seen too. The flow of the crowd was like an invisible massive tsunami. It stretched out fiercely, threatening to swallow everything around it. 'The problem is that this is just the beginning.' Like wildfire spreading across dry land, the people's anger was a fierce blaze that couldn't be forcibly stopped. Osian looked at one of the pickets the protesters were holding. It wasn't intentional, but there was a drawing on it that naturally drew his gaze. In the crudely drawn picket stood a familiar black-haired man. It was himself. Though simple like a child's clumsy drawing, the sharp sword in his hand was piercing through the heart of an old, greedy wealthy man. The stabbed old man was lying down with X-shaped eyes. Red paint depicted bloodstains all over. The sight was both ridiculous and strangely eerie. There wasn't just one such picket. When he expanded his senses to survey the surroundings, there were several more similar ones. The Tirna City government had tried to make him a hero. And indeed, their intention had worked, about halfway. The citizens were enthusiastic about Osian's appearance. They welcomed the emergence of a new hero and even followed him. 'But not every process flows ideally. Just like right now.' He could tell just by looking at the protester who had drawn him on a picket. They welcomed the hero's appearance, but at the same time, they wanted this hero to overturn the rotten city. Asking a hero who killed a heretic apostle to cut off the heads of the wealthy was absurd. 'Actually, looking at just part of it, it's not entirely wrong.' Some of the wealthy had become believers of Red Eternity. They ground up living people and chewed bones and flesh, drinking blood. They tried to maintain their youth with it. Osian had killed them. Every single one without exception. Not all were killed by Osian, and in terms of numbers killed, Grace Seeker probably killed more. But to them, that fact wasn't important. The fact that Osian had killed wealthy people consumed by greed. That alone carried great symbolic meaning. 'Well, I suppose that symbolism couldn't be given to Grace Seeker. She's a terrorist, after all. I don't know where such rumors spread from, but the fact that it reached their ears means someone deliberately leaked it.' It wasn't a pleasant feeling to have his image used for propaganda without his knowledge. But he couldn't approach the person holding that picket to confront them about it. To those who knew only fragments of the truth and were swayed only by intense emotions, the voice of cold reason doesn't reach. Osian touched something covering his face with his chin. He felt the hard, cold texture of a brass mask. It was a mask he had to wear to conceal his identity. Going out with his bare face would draw crowds of people who recognized him, so it was an unavoidable choice. 'Good thing I wore it. Otherwise, it would have been troublesome.' He had even worn a hat and hidden it under a black coat so it wouldn't be exposed outside. With just this, no one recognized Osian. Occasionally, someone would look at him intently because of his distinctive eyes, but that was fine. [Warning. The protest group must disperse immediately.] Tirna's guards appeared. Wearing masks and sturdy protective gear, they stood in a line holding riot shields. Behind them, steam suits came walking out with clanking sounds while emitting steam. [Warning again. The protest group must disperse immediately and return to daily life.] When the guards stepped forward, the protesters were frightened. The protesters were bare-handed while the guards were heavily armed. The guards' eyes were sharp as blades, prepared for any potential incident. "Don't be ridiculous! Who do you think you are!" "You're in cahoots with those who want to devour us!" "You dirty capitalist lackeys! Die!" If these had been ordinary citizens, they would have been intimidated by the guards' imposing presence. They wouldn't have been able to make proper eye contact. But now it was different. The citizens were filled with rage, and they became even angrier at the guards' oppressive behavior. Someone in the protest group threw a Molotov cocktail. The Molotov cocktail was futilely blocked by a guard's shield, but that wasn't what mattered. 'Violent resistance from the protest group has begun.' This carried great significance. The anger of people who had been quietly submissive until now had exceeded the critical point. They had nothing left to fear. At this rate, they would either die to monsters or die being exploited by capitalists. Their courage carried the resolve that there was no more retreating. The first time is difficult, but after that it's easy. Various objects flew from the protest group toward the guards. There were rusty iron pipes and wrenches. Easy to block, but dangerous if they hit someone's head. The most troublesome were the Molotov cocktails flying intermittently. The steadfast guards hesitated and retreated. At this sight, the protest group let out cheers. They realized that even the fortress-like guards were human. That psychological element was important. They became even more aggressive. The spark of violence began to spread. Madness expanded like foam. Finally, orders came from above. The guards who had been only defensive moved. They maintained their formation with discipline and approached the protesters. The protesters backed away saying "Uh, uh." At the same time, cylindrical metal objects flew from behind the guards. Pure white smoke spewed out. People touched by the smoke coughed and streamed tears and snot. Tear gas carried by the wind covered the protesters. Some of it reached Osian too, but it didn't matter. He was wearing a mask, but even without it, he wouldn't have been affected. The protesters seemed to disperse like that. 'But this won't be the end. Even if today ends , new protests will break out tomorrow. In more places, with more people rising up.' That much didn't matter. The problem was what came next. 'People are kindling. The more they're piled up and gathered, the easier it spreads once a fire starts. Fire that grows uncontrollably will devour the entire city.' In that process, he felt something discordant. Osian's gaze turned toward several protesters moving through the tear gas. 'The few who threw Molotov cocktails first.' Unlike other protesters who were confused and panicking in the chaos, those few were disappearing through the crowd with familiar, swift movements. The sinister Molotov cocktails in their hands had been discordant from the start. It was too contrasting with most protesters who raised their voices while holding worn pickets. Their purpose hadn't been in legitimate protest from the beginning. 'They were prepared in advance to deliberately stir up the atmosphere among the protesters.' They naturally mixed among the people to agitate them and make the atmosphere hostile. These were agitators commonly mixed in when such protests occurred. However, doing such things when the city's administration might be paralyzed as it was now took unusual guts. 'Usually agitators want to maximize their own interests through protests. But agitating in a situation where the city is heading toward chaos like now, no matter how you look at it, isn't rational.' Even in this chaotic situation, the fight of people trying to achieve what they wanted continued beneath the surface. 'Fighting for their own interests even in this situation. How very Tirna-like.' Osian briefly considered capturing those agitators and investigating their background, but soon shook his head. While he was contemplating, those guys had disappeared, and the guards had started violently suppressing the protesters with batons. Staying here would only lead to misunderstandings and getting caught up in it wouldn't be good. Not for him, but for the guards who would mess with him. Osian slowly disappeared into an alley. He hadn't come outside to watch such protests in the first place. As he continued walking, the scenery changed. The protesters decreased, and the angry shouts diminished. Instead, the sounds of smiths working echoed from various places. He had entered the craftsmen's district. Even in this situation, craftsmen and tinkers worked on machines. Truly consistent people. They did what they wanted whether the world ended or not. Osian really liked such people. Osian visited Eldin's Hammer and Anvil workshop. It was for weapon repair. 'The sword's blade was badly damaged in the last fight.' Actually, he had tried to visit once before going to the Trinity Building, but it was ruined when Grace Seeker came looking for him first. Since the sword wasn't broken yet, it wouldn't be too late if he visited now. "Well, well. Look who it is. The city's rising star. A celebrity personally gracing my workshop." Eldin seemed to be resting, sitting on a chair in the corner of the workshop drinking tea. The source of this content ɪs 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵※𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾※𝙣𝙚𝙩 "Were you resting? Seems I came at a bad time." "No. It was getting lonely anyway, so it worked out well. It's not just anyone, but a celebrity, so I should treat you as a guest, shouldn't I?" It wasn't sarcasm, just teasing. Osian chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. Osian first removed his mask. With a clicking sound as the mask separated, he felt the stuffy air of the workshop. Still, it wasn't a bad feeling. A fire spirit emerged from the furnace. The lizard made of flames looked at Osian and flicked its forked tongue. Its eyes looking this way were full of curiosity. "Oh, how interesting. It's coming out to look at a person first." "Does it shy away from strangers a lot?" "Rather than that, it's more like it's just not interested in humans. But coming all the way here. What's the matter?" "Ah. I'd like to commission a sword repair." Osian held out his longsword to Eldin. Taking the longsword, Eldin drew the sword from its sheath and frowned deeply. "Just how roughly did you use this? The edge is almost completely chipped!" "Fixing it is naturally possible. I made it as sturdy as possible, but to use it until it became . Don't you have any affection for your weapon?" "I have affection, that's why I came here." "Ah-hah. You're the rough-handling type." "And this. Is this possible additionally?" Osian took out an enhancement stone. "What's this? Where did you get this again? This precious thing?" It wasn't a lie. This enhancement stone had been received from Grace Seeker as an advance payment for a commission. Eldin didn't ask for details either. "Well, this would be more than sufficient. But you really used it roughly. It's a wonder it's still intact." Eldin examining the sword closely clicked her tongue unconsciously. "What exactly did you do with this?" "I don't know where to start. It's too extensive to explain everything. Still, do you want to hear it?" "...No, never mind. Thinking about it, I don't really need to know." Eldin intuited that hearing it would only give her a headache. "It'll probably take about 2 days. That's including the enhancement time, so don't be too disappointed." "That can't be helped then." Eldin got up and disappeared somewhere. Shortly after, she showed Osian a sword. "How about using this while it's being repaired." "After making yours, I occasionally got inspired and made various cold weapons. I also made some for your companions later. This is one that came out relatively well among them. There was no particular user for it, so I just had it on display." Osian examined the sword he received. It had similar specifications to the longsword he usually used, but many detailed parts were different. Still, the way it fit perfectly in his hand and the smooth blade were quite to his liking. "Are you giving it to me?" "Hey, where are you trying to get a freebie? I'm lending it to you. Bring it back when the repair is done." Osian clicked his tongue in disappointment. Then suddenly, remembering the street scene he saw on the way, he asked Eldin. "It's a bit quieter here compared to other places." "Ah, I heard the news. This street, well, it's full of people crazy about inventions or making things. But compared to before, the aftermath isn't small here either." "It's noisy everywhere because of what happened in District 17. You were there too, right? What exactly happened? Oh, is it something you can't talk about?" Since there was nothing particularly to hide, Osian revealed the truth. "I fought against an outer god trying to invade from the outside world. Due to that erosion, a giant skyscraper became a tentacle monster. I cut it exactly in half." When he said something amazing so matter-of-factly, Eldin looked dumbfounded. "The outer god's main body was trying to cross through the gap, so I blocked it. I also fought against a cardinal of the heretics who followed it. Besides that, I cut down too many petty corrupted ones." Eldin pondered how to respond to that shocking truth, then uttered one sentence. "...It's amazing the sword didn't break." Perhaps having seen the scene of Osian fighting, at least she didn't deny those words.