Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint-Chapter 491: I’ve Been Through Too Much

I've really been through a lot. I'm exhausted.

My time in Ende has been short, and I had to cram all my work into just the past few days, which made it even worse. Ende is massive. Just walking around and reading minds takes up an entire day.

Reading minds, sorting through information, moving to the next location, and then reading more minds—it was like trying to organize a library that had been carelessly thrown into a pile, one chronicle at a time.

But, well, there’s a certain kind of satisfaction in that kind of work. Sorting through tens of thousands of people to pick out the members of Orcma—and only them—breaking them apart piece by piece... that was oddly fun. Seeing those who had hidden among the citizens, indulging in stolen comforts, slowly succumb to fear? That was rewarding in its own way.

Today, I wrapped up my work, shook off any pursuers, and returned to the mansion.

As I crossed the dimly lit courtyard, I noticed two figures standing by the entrance.

The Regressor and Azzy were waiting for me.

...What, they waited up for me all this time? That’s unnecessary.

But...

Somehow, it made my chest feel warm. I never realized how comforting it was to have someone waiting for you.

"Where have you been wandering off to?"

...Never mind.

That warmth in my chest? Yeah, it just turned into smoke and clogged my lungs instead.

Hearing the Regressor’s grumpy tone, I answered just as flatly.

"Why? I was out working, just like you wanted."

"You could at least tell us where you're going and when you’ll be back. So we don’t worry for nothing."

"Did you explain where you were going? You just said you'd be back late and disappeared."

"At least I came back late, like I said I would!"

"I didn’t even get the chance to say when I’d be back. Maybe you should’ve let me explain first?"

The Regressor pursed her lips, sulking in silence.

‘I may be strong and know what to watch out for at this hour, but you’re the King of Humanity, and you’ve lost your power. What if you got hurt or even died out there, wandering alone without Azzy?’

Huh. Your thoughts are much kinder than your words. Maybe you should stop talking and just communicate telepathically. Or, better yet, just be honest about everything. You might actually come across as considerate then.

"Stop standing outside. Come in already."

‘I don’t know what exactly you’re doing, but if you're really busy, you should at least rest.’

...Seriously, your words and thoughts do not match. How do you manage to sound so annoying while thinking such nice things?

Inside, the Manhanjeonseok was still sitting on the table. Normally, the Regressor would have stored it away in her subspace, but she must have left it out while waiting for me.

She placed a hand on the set and asked,

"Did you eat?"

"I grabbed a bite while working."

"Want some food?"

"I’ll skip tonight since I’m heading to bed soon."

"You should’ve said so sooner. I already pressed the button."

...Your actions are faster than your questions.

Well, I was a little hungry, so I gratefully accepted the meal. A thick, simmering red soup appeared, and I wolfed it down, letting the warmth seep into my body.

As soon as I set my spoon down, the Regressor spoke.

"You. You're the Magician, aren’t you?"

"Gasp! How did you know?"

"What are you surprised about? You keep calling yourself the Magician every chance you get."

"Wait, you actually remember that? I thought you’d have forgotten by now."

"Why? You’re not that famous, but I can remember at least that much."

"I wasn’t doubting my fame—I was doubting your memory."

"Hey!"

After a brief exchange of friendly insults, the Regressor crossed her arms and leaned back.

"I keep hearing the name Magician when I’m out. Apparently, you’ve been causing a massive stir in Ende. There’s no way I wouldn’t find out."

"I wouldn’t say I’ve been causing a stir. I’ve just been lightly messing with people."

"Exactly. From what I hear, the public doesn’t hate you for it."

Oh? She already caught wind of it? That’s faster than I expected.

"What’s the general sentiment?"

"Regular people see you as a ‘playful outlaw.’ Even Ende’s security forces and the Obelisk Soldiers seem to appreciate what you’re doing. They say the Magician only targets criminals who disrupt the peace."

Ah, that’s satisfying. It feels good knowing my work is getting recognized.

I nodded in satisfaction.

The Regressor, watching my reaction, asked,

"So? What exactly are you doing under the name Magician? Are you part of the security forces now?"

"Not quite. The security forces can’t act until a crime has already happened. And even when it does, it’s hard to tell who’s guilty and who just got caught up in the mess."

"And you can tell?"

"Of course. I listen, sneak in, deceive, act, and draw out people’s desires. As the King of Humanity, I excel at this kind of thing."

I conveniently left out the part about mind-reading.

But the Regressor, having already witnessed all sorts of strange abilities, didn’t seem to question my results.

"Before fighting the King of Wolves, we need to establish order in Ende. We have to rally all of Ende’s forces if we want a fighting chance."

"Huh. You’re actually doing a good job. Should’ve done this sooner."

"This kind of work is like a stimulant—it loses effectiveness if overused. Chaos stems from inequality, and if we don’t address that, it’ll resurface eventually. Plus, the opposition will adapt to my methods soon enough."

Right now, Ende’s criminals were in disarray because I was an unknown force, completely unpredictable. But the moment they figured out who I was, I would shift from a mysterious specter to a target to be eliminated.

And once an external threat emerged, Orcma would consolidate its power and stand against me.

‘Not bad. You may be useless in direct combat, but you’re surprisingly handy in every other way.’

...Say that out loud next time.

If I weren’t a mind-reader, I would’ve been long gone by now, just from how annoying you are.

"Got it. Do you need anything else?"

"Not really. Oh, but the troublemakers of Ende will probably retaliate soon. If we handle that well, there won’t be any lingering issues."

"Should we take care of them first?"

"It’s better if Ende resolves it on its own. Cracking down from within strengthens unity."

‘Hmph. Now that I think about it, every time Ende has failed to stop the King of Wolves, it was when Ende itself was weak. Hughes really is convenient to have as an ally. Friendly with everyone, understands people well... He might actually make a good internal manager. Maybe I should station him somewhere permanent...’

"Ha. Well, same goes for you. You’re not exactly convenient as an ally—it’s more like you’d be horrifying as an enemy. If I ever ended up against you, I’d probably just wake up in the next timeline wondering how the hell I died."

The Regressor didn’t react to my thoughts, of course, because she couldn’t hear them. But her silent satisfaction at my competence was enough of a reward for now.

I leaned back and stretched.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

"So, I’ve been handling things in Ende. What about you, Shei? What have you been up to?"

"I delivered Ende’s message to the Beast Faction. Told them the King of Wolves is coming and that we should work together to protect the plains."

"Do we really need their help?"

"They’re wildfolk. If we don’t reach out first, they might side with the werewolves and invade Ende instead."

Oh, right. The werewolves had allied with the King of Wolves.

He may have declared war on all of humanity, but he left the werewolves untouched. That meant he could indirectly form alliances through them, using them as intermediaries to interact with others.

The gears of the world were turning in place like a well-constructed machine. The Regressor had a solid plan after all.

"Then there’s the Orc Warlord, Grull. He’s a pig beastman, but he’s a warrior with reason. If we can get him on Ende’s side, we’ll be much safer."

Oh? An Orc Warlord? A beastman, but one who understands reason...

...Wait. Orc? Pig beastman?

A nagging feeling passed through my mind, something ominous lurking just beneath the surface of my thoughts.

But, well—he wasn’t a citizen of Ende.

So surely...

There’s no way this would turn into a problem.

Right?

No group survives without power. If one did, I’d suggest they stop arguing against this statement and start hiding instead—because a stronger force would soon come along to devour them.

Orcma’s strength, known as the Fangs, was a mercenary corps made up of pig beastmen. At the same time, they were the largest organized force supporting Orcma.

The First Fang, Urukfang, addressed his subordinates.

"Two of our liaisons with the ranchers outside of Ende have disappeared. Rumor has it they were found naked, wriggling, embedded into Ende’s outer wall. Fifteen wagons full of goods were turned into toy cards, and the packhorses? They ended up in a drunken parade, carrying a wasted centaur through the city, only to be confiscated by the security forces."

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Individually, these incidents might seem minor.

But together, they were chipping away at Orcma's cohesion.

"More than anything... The Magician. He’s targeting only Orcma."

The primary reason Orcma had been able to grow so much was anonymity.

It wasn’t surprising for beastmen to cause trouble now and then. Orcma had simply hidden among them.

Some of their members didn’t even know they were part of Orcma. Some knew, but had no idea what they were actually contributing to. And some played crucial roles while never personally committing any crimes.

A group like this, lurking in the shadows, unable to be clearly identified as good or evil, had thrived under the veil of anonymity.

But the Magician was cutting through that veil with surgical precision.

"We cannot allow the Magician to continue. For the glory of the Orcs—no, at the very least, for the sake of securing equal rights with the other beastmen. We must solidify our influence. We cannot return to the past—the days when an orc could be killed in the street without consequence."

If things had still been like those days, Orcma wouldn’t have existed in the first place. Any troublemakers would have been swiftly executed—or worse, their families would have paid the price.

But times had changed.

Ende was a beastman city now. Pig beastmen were treated better than before. And ever since the arrival of the Furred Saintess, it had become impossible to slaughter beastmen without cause.

In this environment, it was incredibly difficult to isolate and eliminate Orcma members without collateral damage. Removing the wrong people would only further destabilize the city.

But then...

The Magician appeared.

Whether he was actually performing magic or not was unclear, but because of his actions, Orcma was crumbling from within. Their own people, afraid of being exposed, had begun to distance themselves.

At this rate, Orcma wouldn’t just fail to expand—they would collapse entirely.

Urukfang firmed his resolve and turned to his subordinate.

"Did you spread the false information?"

"Yes. We’ve told our collaborators that we’re setting a code for fighting back against the Magician. The meeting place has been announced. If the Magician truly has a way of obtaining information, {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} he won’t be able to resist interfering."

"Good. If the Magician falls for it, the Fangs will sink their teeth into his neck."

"But we don’t even know what he looks like. Can we really find him?"

"There aren’t that many humans in Ende. Any human who shows up here will likely be him. As soon as we identify him, report immediately."

With that, the Fangs took their positions, hiding in the shadows, waiting for their prey.

Other Orcma collaborators arrived, but they were quietly redirected through secret tunnels.

The true target was the Magician.

"Come on, Magician. If your goal is Orcma, you won’t pass up this opportunity."

Like fangs hidden within a gaping maw, they lay in wait—silent, but sharp.

Then, among the pedestrians, a hooded figure approached.

His hood was pulled low, concealing his face, but one thing stood out—there were no protrusions underneath the hood.

No fur, no beastman ears.

A human.

"It’s him!"

The Fangs sprang from their hiding spots. From the rooftops, the alleyways, even the underground tunnels—the Fangs erupted into action, surrounding the hooded human in an instant.

The human flinched, startled by the sudden ambush, his eyes darting around.

"We found you, Magician."

Urukfang strode forward, clashing his gauntlets together with a threatening growl.

"Did you really think you could hide forever?"

"No matter who you are, this is the end of the line."

"You finally showed your tail."

To them, it was a simple deduction.

No other human would have reason to show up here, wearing a hood, at this exact time.

But the Fangs had made a mistake.

They hadn’t stopped to consider something crucial.

Would the Magician—who had stayed hidden this entire time—really reveal himself so carelessly?

"I don’t have a tail."

The human’s voice was calm, unwavering.

Then—he boldly threw back his hood.

The moment they saw his face, the Fangs sucked in a sharp breath.

"However..."

The man’s sharp eyes gleamed as he scanned them.

"I do have a foot to step on tails. And it seems... you’re the ones who’ve exposed yours."

SAPIEN.

An official of Ende.

Captain of the Obelisk Soldiers.

The strongest guardian of Ende.

Panic spread through the Fangs as they exchanged uneasy glances.

Even as a well-known mercenary force, they were lightly armed in the city—after all, drawing too much attention would have been dangerous.

And standing before them was a top-tier official, the greatest enforcer of Ende.

No one could touch him.

They couldn’t even if they tried.

"T-the Magician...?"

"An anonymous letter arrived in Obeli," Sapien answered, rolling his shoulders. "It warned that a suspicious group was gathering at this time and place."

The moment his hood hit the ground—

BOOM.

Sapien vanished.

No—he kicked off the ground with explosive force, grabbing one of the Fangs by the throat and slamming him into the earth.

The impact sent a shockwave through the alley, instantly knocking the orc unconscious.

Ende’s warriors fought beasts.

And in doing so, they had learned to become beasts themselves.

Sapien's instincts, honed in the wilds, were not those of a mere man.

With fluid, animalistic grace, he snatched the fallen orc’s gauntlet and slipped it on. It was too large for his hand—but that didn’t matter.

His sheer battle aura filled the oversized gauntlet, making it fit as if it were made for him.

"So... was it the Magician who tipped us off?"****"I suppose I should thank him. He’s given me the perfect opportunity to clean up some garbage."

"Guh...!"

In that moment, Urukfang realized—they had no choice.

"SCATTER!"

This was no longer about winning.

They needed to survive.

But there was one last mistake they had made.

"Did you think you could escape?"

Sapien hadn’t stayed behind in Ende for no reason.

Even as other humans fled the King of Wolves’ advance, he had chosen to remain.

He wasn’t someone a mere mercenary corps could handle.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

Every time he moved, another Fang collapsed.

Orc bodies slammed against walls, craters forming where they landed.

Like a beast unleashed, Sapien hunted them down.

Urukfang roared, charging in desperation—only to be broken.

His gauntlets shattered, his body flung through the air five times before finally crashing down, unconscious.

The others? They were already fleeing, dragging their fallen comrades with them.

Sapien dusted himself off and muttered.

"Tch. Should’ve brought some subordinates."

He had no doubt in his victory. But stopping them all? That was a different matter.

Still—he had captured one.

And there were many ways to make a pig beastman talk.

"Now then... The Magician. Who exactly are you?"

He was curious.

But in the end, he didn’t mind.

As long as the Magician helped Ende—

He would gladly use him.