Sam arrived at the Demon Clan’s rental area, lugging his heavy bags and greedily breathing in the fresh air.
It’s great to be in a place ruled by the Demon Clan, where the atmosphere is filled with freedom.
The most crucial point is that, unlike the Royal Capital and the territories previously ruled by Doug, where starvation and beggars were everywhere, here, not a single poor person could be seen.
As an alchemist and an advanced thinker from the Royal Capital, Sam confidently approached the consulate in this enclave with his own work, “The Theory of Freedom,” ready to make a self-recommendation. Back in the Royal Capital, he had yelled together with the heroic Prime Minister Caudic, “Let there be peace, not war.”
At that time, he even received praise from Prime Minister Caudic; although it was just a glance of approval, Sam felt he was already different from those ordinary people.
Sam believed that the great and wise Demon Clan would surely be impressed by his “Theory of Freedom,” and he was destined to become as great a figure as Prime Minister Caudic.
“Hello, I request to see the consulate here; I am a student of Prime Minister Caudic and hope to be accommodated.”
After saying this, Sam handed over his identity introduction, somewhat similar to a resume.
However, the human guard standing at the entrance didn’t even glance at it and directly tossed the stack of papers back, pointing instead to the bulletin board next to the consulate.
The most conspicuous place on the bulletin board read in bold letters: Humans and dogs are not allowed inside.
Sam immediately explained, “I am not one of those ordinary humans; I am a professional, and I have spoken on behalf of the Demon Clan in the Royal Capital. I am not the kind of lowly humans written about above.”
“How many tiers?”
The human guard’s tone remained cold, seeming even colder than the winter wind outside.
“Tier 5, Tier 5.”
Sam’s confidence waned, but the human guard rang a bell and called over a green-skinned demon, who was briefed about Sam’s situation. This demon then led Sam into the consulate.
Sam felt a surge of excitement; was his opportunity finally arriving? However, instead of being led to an office or reception area, he was taken directly to the dining hall, where a demon was gorging himself, the dining table cluttered with dishes, most of which had been half-eaten before being discarded.
“What are your specialties?”
The somewhat small demon asked while eating.
Sam promptly took out a stack of papers from his backpack and began to speak.
These papers were a summary based on Prime Minister Caudic’s speeches, mainly discussing the perils of war.
When he reached the part where he explained that war only brought the gleeful grins of vested interests and was about to continue discussing how the Demon Clan should maintain peace against the old Lars, the small demon abruptly interrupted him, asking bluntly, “Can you make powerful potions?”
Sam nervously asked, “Which kind of powerful potion do you want?”
After a servant pulled Sam aside for further explanation, Sam dumbly replied, “No, I can’t.”
Such potions were completely against regulations; only rogue alchemists from the black market would make them. Proper alchemists like Sam could only create supplements and could not make those kinds of powerful medications.
As soon as he finished speaking, he was roughly thrown out. Even as Sam continued to shout about peace and freedom, the guards paid him no mind.
On the cold and dry streets of the Northern Border, Sam shivered from the cold. This was a rental area for the Demon Clan, so there were no affordable accommodations available for professionals, and the inns charged exorbitant fees upon seeing that Sam was an outsider.
Just as Sam was planning to search for another place to spend the night, he saw a demon driving away several humans from the street.
“The Lord Governor’s kindness cannot stand to see the poor.”
The demon said as it kicked the shivering humans in the cold wind, forcing them away.
Finally, after being robbed of most of his money by the demons under the pretense of a human tax, Sam found a place where a homeless person gathered and barely spent the night before hastily leaving, having only enough left for travel.
Upon returning to the old house left by his parents, Sam angrily slammed the table while looking at his carefully written “Theory of Freedom.”
He felt deceived; the Demon Clan did not appear to love peace as much as he had imagined. Why did they not value his “Theory of Freedom” at all?
Moreover, the rental area was filled with discrimination. The demons repeatedly emphasized their discrimination in the Royal Capital, but Sam discovered that in just two days in the rental area, he encountered all the cases of discrimination described by the demons from the Royal Capital.
This made Sam doubt whether those demons had merely projected their own actions onto humans.
However, life had to go on. After visiting the Demon Clan’s rental area, Sam’s finances had shrunk significantly, even leading him to contemplate escaping to Graythorn Territory to find his parents.
“No, no, I absolutely cannot go to that demon governor’s territory.”
Just as Sam was lost in these thoughts, a bell rang outside, and it turned out to be soldiers from the Doug Army informing that Governor Doug had issued a new currency. Starting today, all transactions within the territory must be conducted in this currency, or all properties would be confiscated.
The soldiers also explained that this was a freedom currency issued to combat Graywhite Territory, with every transaction supporting Governor Doug’s efforts against the evil old Lars forces.
Sam was somewhat reluctant; after all, the Doug Coins issued by Doug were paper money. Who would willingly trade a pile of silver and gold for worthless paper?
After some hesitation, Sam, following his mother’s advice, only exchanged a portion.
However, after two days, he discovered that this paper currency seemed to have higher purchasing power, as many people were eagerly exchanging their gold and silver for it.
“After all, it’s guaranteed by the Lord Governor’s reputation.”
“The Lord Governor promised, there will be no excessive issuance!”
Amid these assurances, to support Governor Doug’s free enterprise, Sam exchanged all his remaining money for this paper Doug Coin, then purchased alchemical materials and food, retreating to his home to begin making the potions ordered.
However, when Sam showed up at the local bar two weeks later, he found people in the bar guzzling down drinks. Confused, Doug went up to ask, “Brother, what day is it today? Why is everyone drinking so fast?”
After finishing his drink, a burly man in front of Sam said, “If we don’t drink fast, the prices might go up soon!”
Just as the words left his mouth, Sam saw the bartender preparing to change the sign from seventy thousand Doug Coins to ninety thousand, prompting the burly man to hurriedly settle his bill.
Sam stared in disbelief at the twenty thousand Doug Coins in his pocket, which had been a substantial amount two weeks ago, but now couldn’t even buy a drink.
Realizing that something was wrong, Sam rushed to the post office, only to find he couldn’t afford even to send a letter with Doug Coins. A loaf of bread was now priced at five hundred thousand Doug Coins, and the prices were still rising.
Thus, Sam found himself bankrupt.
With no way out, Sam took what little food and alchemical materials he had left and prepared to escape to Graywhite Territory to find his parents.
However, on his way to flee, Sam ran into demons leading Doug soldiers who were rounding up young men.
“Wait, wait! I’m a professional; I don’t need to enlist!”
Sam immediately shouted at the soldiers and demons, but to his surprise, the soldiers and demons became even more excited upon hearing this.
“A professional? That means they have a lot of money, right? They don’t look like they belong to a combat profession.”
As the soldiers spoke, they slowly approached Sam. During his gradual retreat, they became more certain that Sam wasn’t a combat-type profession and rushed forward, snatching the package from his hands.
“Wait! That was my last bit of food! I can make potions; please don’t take my food!”
Sam cried out in despair, but the soldiers tore at the package while discussing where they would bury him later.
Just then, Sam heard a muffled sound, followed by more noises, as demons accompanying the soldiers fell one by one, and Sam saw vivid blood blossom bursting forth from their chests.
This flower was so perfect that Sam’s pent-up anger seemed to pour out along with the blooming flower.
“Are you okay?”
A person who looked like a farmer, holding a strange flaming stick, came over beside Sam.
Noticing that Sam was still dazed, the farmer-like uncle extended his hand and introduced himself, “Layton, from the Lars Resistance.”
Initially very hostile towards the so-called Resistance, at this moment, Sam crazily grabbed onto Layton’s arm.
“You are going to fight against the demon and Doug, right? I want to join! I want to join you!”
In the face of the fifty thousand Doug Coins loaf of bread, Sam forgot the words he once said in the Royal Capital and chose to throw himself into the war.
A few days later, when Isha arrived at Layton’s camp, some soldiers from the Resistance were training on how to use firearms.
“Didn’t Graywhite Territory only bring in bolt-action firearms?”
Isha said in disbelief, listening to the sounds coming from the shooting range.
“A soldier came a few days ago; he has been pulling bolts with such speed that it created illusions. Now the speed is the limit of firearms, not just him,” Layton explained.
It’s great to be in a place ruled by the Demon Clan, where the atmosphere is filled with freedom.
The most crucial point is that, unlike the Royal Capital and the territories previously ruled by Doug, where starvation and beggars were everywhere, here, not a single poor person could be seen.
As an alchemist and an advanced thinker from the Royal Capital, Sam confidently approached the consulate in this enclave with his own work, “The Theory of Freedom,” ready to make a self-recommendation. Back in the Royal Capital, he had yelled together with the heroic Prime Minister Caudic, “Let there be peace, not war.”
At that time, he even received praise from Prime Minister Caudic; although it was just a glance of approval, Sam felt he was already different from those ordinary people.
Sam believed that the great and wise Demon Clan would surely be impressed by his “Theory of Freedom,” and he was destined to become as great a figure as Prime Minister Caudic.
“Hello, I request to see the consulate here; I am a student of Prime Minister Caudic and hope to be accommodated.”
After saying this, Sam handed over his identity introduction, somewhat similar to a resume.
However, the human guard standing at the entrance didn’t even glance at it and directly tossed the stack of papers back, pointing instead to the bulletin board next to the consulate.
The most conspicuous place on the bulletin board read in bold letters: Humans and dogs are not allowed inside.
Sam immediately explained, “I am not one of those ordinary humans; I am a professional, and I have spoken on behalf of the Demon Clan in the Royal Capital. I am not the kind of lowly humans written about above.”
“How many tiers?”
The human guard’s tone remained cold, seeming even colder than the winter wind outside.
“Tier 5, Tier 5.”
Sam’s confidence waned, but the human guard rang a bell and called over a green-skinned demon, who was briefed about Sam’s situation. This demon then led Sam into the consulate.
Sam felt a surge of excitement; was his opportunity finally arriving? However, instead of being led to an office or reception area, he was taken directly to the dining hall, where a demon was gorging himself, the dining table cluttered with dishes, most of which had been half-eaten before being discarded.
“What are your specialties?”
The somewhat small demon asked while eating.
Sam promptly took out a stack of papers from his backpack and began to speak.
These papers were a summary based on Prime Minister Caudic’s speeches, mainly discussing the perils of war.
When he reached the part where he explained that war only brought the gleeful grins of vested interests and was about to continue discussing how the Demon Clan should maintain peace against the old Lars, the small demon abruptly interrupted him, asking bluntly, “Can you make powerful potions?”
Sam nervously asked, “Which kind of powerful potion do you want?”
After a servant pulled Sam aside for further explanation, Sam dumbly replied, “No, I can’t.”
Such potions were completely against regulations; only rogue alchemists from the black market would make them. Proper alchemists like Sam could only create supplements and could not make those kinds of powerful medications.
As soon as he finished speaking, he was roughly thrown out. Even as Sam continued to shout about peace and freedom, the guards paid him no mind.
On the cold and dry streets of the Northern Border, Sam shivered from the cold. This was a rental area for the Demon Clan, so there were no affordable accommodations available for professionals, and the inns charged exorbitant fees upon seeing that Sam was an outsider.
Just as Sam was planning to search for another place to spend the night, he saw a demon driving away several humans from the street.
“The Lord Governor’s kindness cannot stand to see the poor.”
The demon said as it kicked the shivering humans in the cold wind, forcing them away.
Finally, after being robbed of most of his money by the demons under the pretense of a human tax, Sam found a place where a homeless person gathered and barely spent the night before hastily leaving, having only enough left for travel.
Upon returning to the old house left by his parents, Sam angrily slammed the table while looking at his carefully written “Theory of Freedom.”
He felt deceived; the Demon Clan did not appear to love peace as much as he had imagined. Why did they not value his “Theory of Freedom” at all?
Moreover, the rental area was filled with discrimination. The demons repeatedly emphasized their discrimination in the Royal Capital, but Sam discovered that in just two days in the rental area, he encountered all the cases of discrimination described by the demons from the Royal Capital.
This made Sam doubt whether those demons had merely projected their own actions onto humans.
However, life had to go on. After visiting the Demon Clan’s rental area, Sam’s finances had shrunk significantly, even leading him to contemplate escaping to Graythorn Territory to find his parents.
“No, no, I absolutely cannot go to that demon governor’s territory.”
Just as Sam was lost in these thoughts, a bell rang outside, and it turned out to be soldiers from the Doug Army informing that Governor Doug had issued a new currency. Starting today, all transactions within the territory must be conducted in this currency, or all properties would be confiscated.
The soldiers also explained that this was a freedom currency issued to combat Graywhite Territory, with every transaction supporting Governor Doug’s efforts against the evil old Lars forces.
Sam was somewhat reluctant; after all, the Doug Coins issued by Doug were paper money. Who would willingly trade a pile of silver and gold for worthless paper?
After some hesitation, Sam, following his mother’s advice, only exchanged a portion.
However, after two days, he discovered that this paper currency seemed to have higher purchasing power, as many people were eagerly exchanging their gold and silver for it.
“After all, it’s guaranteed by the Lord Governor’s reputation.”
“The Lord Governor promised, there will be no excessive issuance!”
Amid these assurances, to support Governor Doug’s free enterprise, Sam exchanged all his remaining money for this paper Doug Coin, then purchased alchemical materials and food, retreating to his home to begin making the potions ordered.
However, when Sam showed up at the local bar two weeks later, he found people in the bar guzzling down drinks. Confused, Doug went up to ask, “Brother, what day is it today? Why is everyone drinking so fast?”
After finishing his drink, a burly man in front of Sam said, “If we don’t drink fast, the prices might go up soon!”
Just as the words left his mouth, Sam saw the bartender preparing to change the sign from seventy thousand Doug Coins to ninety thousand, prompting the burly man to hurriedly settle his bill.
Sam stared in disbelief at the twenty thousand Doug Coins in his pocket, which had been a substantial amount two weeks ago, but now couldn’t even buy a drink.
Realizing that something was wrong, Sam rushed to the post office, only to find he couldn’t afford even to send a letter with Doug Coins. A loaf of bread was now priced at five hundred thousand Doug Coins, and the prices were still rising.
Thus, Sam found himself bankrupt.
With no way out, Sam took what little food and alchemical materials he had left and prepared to escape to Graywhite Territory to find his parents.
However, on his way to flee, Sam ran into demons leading Doug soldiers who were rounding up young men.
“Wait, wait! I’m a professional; I don’t need to enlist!”
Sam immediately shouted at the soldiers and demons, but to his surprise, the soldiers and demons became even more excited upon hearing this.
“A professional? That means they have a lot of money, right? They don’t look like they belong to a combat profession.”
As the soldiers spoke, they slowly approached Sam. During his gradual retreat, they became more certain that Sam wasn’t a combat-type profession and rushed forward, snatching the package from his hands.
“Wait! That was my last bit of food! I can make potions; please don’t take my food!”
Sam cried out in despair, but the soldiers tore at the package while discussing where they would bury him later.
Just then, Sam heard a muffled sound, followed by more noises, as demons accompanying the soldiers fell one by one, and Sam saw vivid blood blossom bursting forth from their chests.
This flower was so perfect that Sam’s pent-up anger seemed to pour out along with the blooming flower.
“Are you okay?”
A person who looked like a farmer, holding a strange flaming stick, came over beside Sam.
Noticing that Sam was still dazed, the farmer-like uncle extended his hand and introduced himself, “Layton, from the Lars Resistance.”
Initially very hostile towards the so-called Resistance, at this moment, Sam crazily grabbed onto Layton’s arm.
“You are going to fight against the demon and Doug, right? I want to join! I want to join you!”
In the face of the fifty thousand Doug Coins loaf of bread, Sam forgot the words he once said in the Royal Capital and chose to throw himself into the war.
A few days later, when Isha arrived at Layton’s camp, some soldiers from the Resistance were training on how to use firearms.
“Didn’t Graywhite Territory only bring in bolt-action firearms?”
Isha said in disbelief, listening to the sounds coming from the shooting range.
“A soldier came a few days ago; he has been pulling bolts with such speed that it created illusions. Now the speed is the limit of firearms, not just him,” Layton explained.
