Most of the villagers stood in stunned disbelief, their faces twisted with confusion and betrayal.

"Mr. Masi?!" one of them cried. "Why would you do this to us?"

"Yeah! Aren't you supposed to clean up the slimes? Why did you bring them here?!"

“What on earth happened? Explain yourself!”

Before Masi could utter a word, one of his workers stepped forward, face pale but resolute. "I'll tell you what happened," he began, voice tight with suppressed emotion.

With painstaking detail, the Slime Cleaner recounted Masi's actions—how he had deliberately gathered the slimes, planning to exploit them, even to the point of concocting a plan to use the creatures to create drinks, all in a twisted plot to harm the Heroes. The truth spread like wildfire through the crowd, igniting anger among the villagers.

"Masi! You deserve to die!" one shouted, fists clenched.

"Throw him out! Out of the village!"

"I can't believe it... After all these years, you're that kind of person!"

Masi’s face flushed crimson, his fists trembling at his sides as the villagers berated him. He had never felt so exposed, so thoroughly humiliated. The weight of their hatred crushed down upon him, and in that moment, he realized he would never be able to show his face in the village again.

“I—what else was I supposed to do?!” he yelled, his voice breaking.

Masi’s defiance surged, his voice rising above the crowd. “Cleaning slime has been my life’s work! Even if I could starve, my employees can’t! What’s going to happen to them now that most of the slimes have been wiped out by Hero-sama?! How will they survive?!”

He turned his gaze toward the Heroes, eyes filled with bitterness and fury. "You may have solved the disaster, but what about our lives?! From the moment you were born, you've never had to worry about anything! You don’t know what it’s like to struggle, to fear losing the very work that keeps you alive!"

The venom in his voice struck deep, as he laughed bitterly. “Born into wealth and power, how could you possibly understand the suffering that people like us endure?”

Ariana, her face flushed with righteous fury, stepped forward. "Maybe... but we destroy monsters for the survival of all humanity!"

"Humanity?" Masi scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. “What does humanity have to do with people like me? Without slimes, we don’t even have food to eat!”

At that, silence fell over the courtyard. The weight of his words hung in the air, and though selfish, they were undeniable. To Masi, the broader survival of humanity meant little when his own livelihood was at stake. Unemployment, for him and his workers, was the most pressing disaster.

Layton, who had remained quiet until now, clenched his fists, grinding his teeth in frustration. He couldn’t hold back any longer.

"First of all, I’m no young master! I’m just a simple porter!" Layton’s voice boomed as he stepped forward, glaring at Masi. "And I can’t understand this selfishness of yours! You make a living cleaning slimes, but my family—my entire village—suffers because of the monsters! That’s why we fight them!"

He gestured sharply toward Masi, anger simmering beneath his words. "If you lose your job, find another! But to put the lives of others in danger just to protect your livelihood? That I cannot understand!"

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Masi sneered, the bitterness in his smile deepening. "Of course, you don’t understand. You can change jobs, sure. But where do I go? Where do my employees go? You Heroes think you’re saving the world, but you’ve never once thought about the consequences for people like us!"

The tension was palpable, crackling in the air like a distant storm. The villagers, who had once been angry, now stood quietly, many of them wrestling with a newfound sense of uncertainty. Perhaps Masi had gone too far, but his words rang with a terrible truth.

Then, a voice, cold and emotionless, cut through the stillness like a blade.

“Well then, let’s think about it from your perspective.”

The crowd parted, and all eyes turned toward the source of the voice, as the believers silently stepped aside, creating a path for the one who had spoken.

Anyi stepped forward, his presence commanding as he moved to the front of the crowd, eyes fixed on Masi. The villagers and believers watched with bated breath as Anyi spoke, his voice steady and cold.

“This is a rural community. Most people here rely on farming to survive, working the land and providing for themselves,” Anyi began, his gaze unwavering. “But you, Masi—you’re afraid that since you’ve lost your job as a slime cleaner, you won’t be able to maintain your life. You won’t be able to survive.”

Masi opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out. His confidence had begun to crumble beneath the weight of Anyi’s calm scrutiny.

“And yet,” Anyi continued, giving him no chance to speak, “of course you can. The only real difference is that now, instead of an easy job, you’d be working the fields like everyone else. Instead of sitting back and pointing fingers, collecting wages from others, you’d have to grow your own food. It’s not as comfortable, not as easy—but it’s honest work.”

Masi stood speechless, sweat beading on his forehead as Anyi's words cut deep.

“What's wrong with that?" Anyi’s tone sharpened. "You don’t want to live like the other villagers, like the generations before you who have tilled this land. You want to stay in your cushy position, crying and screaming for fairness like a child. And yet, even now, kneeling in disgrace, you still think you’re in the right.”

Masi broke into a cold sweat, frantically searching for something, anything, to defend himself. Desperation took hold, and he shouted, “I just want to save my job! What’s wrong with that?!”

Anyi’s gaze darkened, and with swift movement, he grabbed Masi by the collar, lifting him effortlessly. The entire village seemed to hold its breath as Anyi leaned in, his face mere inches from Masi's, eyes glowing with quiet fury.

“Saving your job isn’t wrong,” Anyi said, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. “But you almost destroyed this village. That is your crime.”

Masi’s breath hitched, fear flooding his veins. Anyi’s grip was iron, and for a moment, Masi felt as though the Hero’s very presence might crush him. His soul felt suffocated, and Anyi's gaze was like that of a god looking down on a mere insect.

“Right!” Layton’s voice cut through the tension, echoing the anger of the villagers. The believers joined in, their faces dark with fury.

“If you’d succeeded in bringing all those slimes together, there wouldn’t be a village left for you to work in!” Anyi’s voice boomed, his grip tightening. “You risked everything—betting this village’s survival against your desire to keep an easy job. And if the higher authorities found out, do you think they’d let you off with a slap on the wrist? You’d be sentenced to death for this!”

The crowd roared in agreement. “Evil!” someone shouted. “He doesn’t deserve mercy!”

Anyi’s patience had worn thin, his usual calm shattered. He had tolerated Masi's petty attempts to undermine them, but to risk the lives of an entire village? It was too much. In his previous life, Anyi would have watched helplessly as these slimes devoured the village, powerless to stop it. Now, with his abilities, he could prevent the worst—but the recklessness of Masi’s actions still infuriated him.

Masi, for his part, had thought he was justified, that protecting his job was his right. But now, he realized his mistake. He had gambled not just with his life, but with the lives of every soul in the village. And worse, he had bet on the Heroes, assuming they would clean up his mess.

That night, the village chief gathered with the elders to decide Masi’s fate. The decision was made swiftly. Masi would remain in the village for a few days, aiding the Theocracy’s investigation into the slimes. After that, he would be sent to the nearby town, where the nobles would determine his ultimate punishment—be it prison or death.

Before Masi was taken away, the believers pressed him further. “If we are to stop this threat, we must deal with the source,” one of them said, voice sharp with authority. “Tell us—where are the slimes born?”

Masi, now pale and hollow-eyed, sat slumped in a chair. His voice came out as a hoarse whisper, barely audible. “In... in the jungle,” he muttered, pointing a trembling finger toward the dark, foreboding expanse beyond the village. “On the other side of the jungle.”