Reincarnated in a novel: I am the villain!-Chapter 263: Hero of the Slums

And sure enough, after riding for a few minutes, his guess was indeed true

In from them was the River-Cross

The town sat on the edge of the borderlands, a sprawling collection of haphazard wooden buildings and refugee tents clustered around a swollen, grey river.

It was a place where people went when they had nowhere else to go, deserters, bankrupt merchants, and families fleeing the aftermath of the Demon War.

Alaric pulled the wagon to a halt near the southern gate.

"Hoods up," Alaric muttered.

Two Imperial Guards stood at the checkpoint. Their armor was stained with rust, and they looked bored, leaning on their halberds as they watched the line of refugees.

"Papers," the guard grunted as Alaric pulled up.

Alaric handed over a crumpled, water-stained travel permit. It was a fake, given to them by Barnaby three days ago, but it was a good fake.

The guard barely glanced at it. He was too busy looking at the wagon.

"Potatoes?"

"Turnips," Alaric corrected, keeping his voice dull. "Going to the market."

The guard waved them through. "Move along. And don’t cause trouble. We’re already dealing with enough riots."

.......

Alaric flicked the reins, and the wagon rolled into the town.

The main street was crowded. Not with shoppers, but with patrols.

Imperial soldiers marched in groups of five, tearing down posters from the walls.

"We can’t stay near the center," Lukas whispered from the back, peering through a slit in the canvas.

"Too many uniforms."

"I know," Alaric steered the horses down a narrow, muddy alleyway.

"We’re heading to the Lower District. They won’t patrol there, after all no one likes going to the slums."

The Lower District was exactly what they expected. Or so they thought.

Usually, the slums of a human city were places of despair. Beggars in the gutters, thieves cutting purses, the strong preying on the weak.

Elena gripped a dagger beneath her cloak, ready for a fight.

But as the wagon creaked deeper into the shantytown, the trio slowly realized something was wrong.

It was quiet.

On a street corner, a group of burly men with scars and missing teeth stood guard.

They looked like bandits or gang enforcers. But they weren’t robbing anyone rather they were standing watch over a line of women and children.

"Soup kitchen," Elena whispered, her elf eyes widening.

"It looks like they’re handing out food."

Alaric slowed the wagon.

One of the "bandits" saw them. However unlike what they expected he didn’t draw a weapon. ]

Instead he just raised a hand in a calm, warning gesture to keep moving.

Alaric nodded and drove past. As they passed, Lukas saw it.

Tied around the man’s bicep was a strip of dirty red cloth. Painted on it in crude black ash was a symbol.

A circle with a slash through it.

Ø

"Did you see that?" Lukas hissed.

"I saw it," Alaric said, his grip tightening on the reins.

They turned another corner.

A group of children were playing in the mud. They were ragged, thin, and dirty, but they were laughing.

One boy, no older than ten, stood on a crate. He held a wooden stick like a sword. He had smeared charcoal over his face to mimic a mask.

"I am the King!" the boy shouted. "I will kill all nobles!"

The other children cheered, waving sticks.

"Zero! Zero! Zero!"

Elena flinched. "They’re... they’re playing as him."

"To the Empire, he’s a terrorist," Lukas murmured, watching the kids. "However to the people he is their hope."

Continuing to survey the surrounding they reached a small, muddy square in the heart of the slums.

Alaric pulled the wagon into an alleyway and tied the horses.

"We need water. Lukas, stay with the wagon. Elena come, with me."

They stepped out into the rain.

A crowd had gathered in the center of the square. They stood in silence, ignoring the downpour.

They were huddled around a strange device propped up on a pile of bricks.

It was a Black Mirror, one of the thousands of magical communication devices Damien had distributed during his early years.

This one was cracked, the mana crystal flickering and dying.

It’s just that unlike the current day ones which where usually used to play live broadcasts, this one held a recording, constantly looping over and over.

ZZZT...

The image on the screen was grainy, but the voice was clear. It was a voice that made the hairs on Alaric’s arms stand up.

"The Empire tells you to starve with dignity," the voice of Zero rasped from the broken speaker.

"They tell you that your suffering is the will of the Gods."

On the screen, the masked figure of Zero stood atop the burning clocktower of the Capital.

"I tell you... that is a lie."

"I am the hunger in your belly. I am the anger in your heart. I am the consequence of their greed."

The crowd watched, mesmerized. Men clenched their fists. Women held their children tighter.

An old woman in the front row stepped forward. She placed a small, moldy piece of bread at the base of the mirror, like an offering at an altar.

"Bless the Golden Coin," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Bless Zero."

Alaric and Elena stood in the shadows of the alley, frozen.

"The Golden Coin..." Alaric muttered. "That’s the merchant guild the Professor took over. The one he used to crash the economy."

"Indeed," Elena realized, looking at the bread offering.

She looked at the faces of the people. They weren’t terrified of Zero. They revered him.

The Professor hadn’t just played the villain to challenge the world. He had played the villain to dismantle a system that had been crushing these people for centuries.

He had become a monster so that they could finally see who the real monsters were.

"He knew," Alaric whispered. "He knew he would be hunted. He knew he would be hated. And he did it anyway."

Talking to thesmelves, in their eyes, Damien had become a sort of saint, unfortunately little did they know he did that so he could survive to the end of the plot

Alaric looked at the cracked screen, where the image of Zero was laughing as he fought the Royal Guard.

"Come on," Alaric grabbed Elena’s arm, his voice rough with emotion.

"Let’s get the water. We have a long way to go."

As they walked back to the wagon, the chant from the children echoed down the alleyway, louder than the rain.

"Zero! Zero! Zero!"