I Became the Martial God's Youngest Disciple

In my own way, I thought I had quickly cleaned up the monsters. However, that wasn't the case.

"Uwah... My arm, my arm..."

"I can't see! I can't see anything!"

"Shiiit... Is anyone there? Help me..."

There were pained sounds everywhere. It was a scene reminiscent of a battlefield after the end of the battle. I wandered around in the chaos, rescuing those who were still alive.

Well, rescue sounded a bit grandiose. I wasn't a medical practitioner with specialized knowledge. There was a limit to what I could do. At most, all I could do was first aid, such as stopping the bleeding or pulling someone out from under the carcasses of the larvae. I had no tools, so I couldn't bandage or splint them even if I wanted to. To make matters worse, those exposed to the monster's bodily fluids grew increasingly pale. There was nothing I could do for them.

By the time I had dragged out everyone I could see, Michael finally reached my side. He exclaimed, "A-amazing! Brother Luzard! How much mana do you have? What was that roar at the end? Ah! Maybe you are a dragon, not a lizardman—"

"How does this place deal with the injured?" I cut him off.

Michael closed his mouth. He tried to calm his excitement and cleared his throat before saying, "Ah... First of all, each block must have an infirmary."

"Then let's go back to Block 107." I looked around and said, "Anyone who can move, stand up. There are no more monsters around, so you can rest assured. Those who absolutely can't walk, raise your hand."

"W-wait. Brother. Are you going to help these guys?" Michael whispered from his position close to me. "Didn't you see how they treat lesser races earlier? They are all racists."

"I know."

"Then why? Do you think by saving these people, they will be so grateful to you that they will do good deeds in the future?"

"Maybe they will, maybe they won't. That is why I am saving them first."

"What?"

"If I want to know if a drowning person is good or bad, shouldn't I rescue them first?"

It wasn't that I lacked the ability to judge people. It was just that I still didn't have enough evidence to judge these prisoners. Ignoring lesser races didn't necessarily mean they were bad people.

After all, people all had underlying preconceptions. They felt disgust when seeing rats infesting sewers. If they touched the rats, they would wash their hands thoroughly. I didn't think of such attitudes as discrimination; they were just common sense.

What really mattered was that at some point in life, even if it was just once, they could start to think about it again. The trigger for that didn't even need to be anything big. Maybe one day while eating, they could realize that they shared similar tastes in food to a lesser race. Perhaps when talking to a lesser race, they could get along surprisingly well.

Or in a more extreme situation, their lives could be saved by a lesser race. This could be one of those big moments.

Once they suddenly realized that a lesser race member was a person like themselves, all the things they had done up to now would sweep through their minds like a wave. In such cases, people would have two main reactions: either shame or anger. All those here had committed crimes, so the probability of the latter reaction was higher.

However, I didn't want to jump to that conclusion. That was because there was a thought that was rooted in the deepest part of my heart. It could be called a core belief: People can change.

"You know, for someone who looks the way you do, it turns out that your head is a flower garden." Michael let out a hollow laugh before sighing deeply. "It can't be helped. Then just wait here. I'll go and bring a doctor."

Thinking about it, that did seem like the better option. There were quite a few people who could end up shortening or losing their lives completely if they moved unnecessarily.

"In that case, wouldn't it be faster if I went myself?" I asked.

"The infirmary here isn't available to lesser races. So if you go, there will be a lot of fuss for no reason," Michael answered.

"Mm."

The more I hear, the more terrible this place feels, I thought while speaking to the back of Michael's head; he seemed like he was about to leave at any moment. "If you are going to stop by Block 107, I want to ask you for one more thing."

"What is it?"

"Can you call those from the lesser race quarters? If you say that I told them to come, they will understand."

"Uh-huh, I understand." Michael nodded with a puzzled expression on his face. Then he ran swiftly across the sand.

He definitely had nimble footwork. Maybe it was because he was a fairy.

***

As I expected, the so-called doctor of Block 107 didn't give the impression of being particularly skilled. His appearance alone made him come across as a quack. I'd always had the fixed notion that medical professionals should look clean, but this old man was far from tidy.

"Damn, I was just about to take a nap for the first time in a while. What the hell is going on?" he grumbled.

Still, it seemed he wasn't entirely without the sense of responsibility that a doctor was supposed to have. The old man was shocked to see so many injured people, but he didn't turn away from the work.

"This damn thing... It is elder abuse."

Still, he grumbled so much that my ears hurt.

In the meantime, I looked at the other group brought by Michael. The lesser races from the quarters stood in a daze.

I said, "I heard that you are in charge of disposing of monster corpses."

"N-Not always, but mostly," one of them answered.

I told them, "Then take care of these. I heard they were centurion-class, but I have no clue how to excavate artifacts from monster corpses."

"Did you kill them yourself?"

I was just about to answer when I was interrupted.

"Technically, he didn't kill it alone," a man with a bandage around his right arm said with a heavy voice. It was the guy who had screamed while holding his shaking arm.

"What? What are you saying right now?" Michael asked in bewilderment.

The man replied with a serious expression, "We also participated in the defeat of this monster. This wound is proof of that."

Looking at it earlier, it didn't seem like he had been injured while fighting the monsters. Perhaps he'd broken his arm while running around alone and falling.

He continued, "This is why I insist on fair distribution of the reward."

Before I could say anything, Michael spoke sharply. "Did you hurt your head?"

"As you can see, it is my arm that was injured," the man replied.

"So you weren't in your right mind from the start? The one who just sat around watching while Brother Luzard fought is claiming a share now. There is shamelessness and there is this," Michael said.

"Watching? Didn't we draw their attention? That is why the lizard could defeat the monsters without much difficulty."

By this point, even I had to be impressed. How shameless did he have to be to make such a claim?

𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

"This is crazy," Michael said.

"Of course, I admit that I didn't play a large role in defeating the monsters. So I won't ask for anything that crosses a line," the man said.

"Haha. Well, okay. Let's hear it then."

"I'm only asking for thirty percent."

"Crazy bastard." Michael let out a series of curses. "Thirty percent? Even if it were three, I would think twice about giving it. You must've really hit your head badly. Go see the doctor quickly."

Michael twirled his index finger beside his temple while speaking. This caused the man to frown, clearly annoyed. He said, "Hey, fairy. Why are you clinging to a lesser race like this? Is this your taste or something?"

"What?"

"They say that the longer-lived a species is, the more bored they get and the more they seek new stimuli. Isn't that the case now?"

"Bastard. The way you talk is really damn annoying," Michael said. True to his time spent in the south, he had a really foul mouth for a fairy.

The man snorted. "Don't you know? We are already making big concessions right now. Your claims really don't matter. After all, the director has the authority to write the mission report."

"Are you openly saying that you are going to falsify the report?"

"It isn't falsifying. It is clarifying the facts."

As the two of them were arguing, I thought about it from another angle. Surely there had to be limits to what these guys could do. If they could really falsify everything, there would be no need for him to come out so shamelessly in the first place.

After a moment, it hit me. Anyone with a keen eye could look at a monster corpse and easily know what wounds caused its death.

The man sneered slyly and said, "Depending on how we write the report, we can get up to half. Lizardman, think carefully. Thirty percent is already the biggest concession we can make."

Well then, I thought.

***

I'd been wondering how artifacts could be found in the corpses of monsters that were bigger than houses. However, the method was simple enough to make me laugh. To be honest, it was really ignorant. They cut each monster apart like slicing a fish, dismantling it from the bottom up.

Of course, there were differences from ordinary butchery. The monsters that appeared in the labor camp were usually poisonous, so one needed to be careful. In that sense, Stonegan was the best one for the job. This guy had a body made of stone, so no poison worked on him.

"It will take at least three or four days, or up to one week at the most. They are so big," Stonegan said. He also added that he would camp out in front of the monster corpses during that period.

I wondered if it was really necessary to go this far, causing him to reply, "If the corpses are left alone, prisoners from other blocks might steal the artifacts."

"I don't think they would actually do that," I remarked.

"You are too honest."

It was a statement I never thought I would hear from a member of the rock tribe.

Stonegan stared at me as he continued, "This kind of theft of artifacts has happened many times already. You don't seem to have a sense of life in the labor camp yet. The value of points for the prisoners here is beyond imagination. They are willing to kill in order to get even one point."

"Mm."

From what I was hearing, it seemed that the points weren't just what was necessary to become a director. I had to ask Michael for a more detailed explanation later.

With that in mind, I returned to my accommodations. By then, the sun had set and the labor camp was completely dark. I could feel my stomach grumbling from hunger. Thinking about it, I hadn't eaten a single meal today.

I wondered where I could get some food. I didn't even know the location of the dining area. All the lesser race friends who were supposed to teach me about daily life in the labor camp were out camping by the monster corpses, busy with the dismantling work.

"Is that why you came to me?" Michael asked.

"That's right," I answered.

"Hmm." The corners of Michael's lips twitched. He had a satisfied expression after seeing that I had come to rely on him. He said, "I naturally know the location of the dining area. Let's go."

"Mm." I followed Michael while listening to his chatter.

"By the way, aren't lizardmen supposed to be light eaters? I heard you only need to fill your stomach once every few months. Or perhaps it has been a while since you last ate?" Michael asked.

I could answer positively, but if I did, I could only use that excuse once. I shook my head because I wanted to eat three meals a day. Instead, I said, "That isn't the case. I am a mutant among the lizardmen, so I have to eat regularly."

"A mutant?"

"You must've already seen my mana. I think it is a side effect."

"Ah." Michael nodded in agreement.

It was an excuse I'd come up with on the spot, but it sounded surprisingly plausible.

I asked when we arrived, "Is this the dining area?"

"That's right."

"It is quiet."

"It isn't mealtime."

If that was the case, I wouldn't be able to eat either.

As I thought that, however, I watched Michael calmly head toward the kitchen. He opened drawers and rummaged through boxes like this was his own home, speaking as he did so. "Are there any foods you avoid? Since you are a lizardman, you probably prefer meat over bread or vegetables, right? Well, all we have to eat right now is canned food."

"By the way, can you really barge in like this? If you get caught..." I began.

"What are you bastards doing in the kitchen?"

Right on cue, a large man appeared with a booming voice. Judging by the chef's hat on his face, he seemed to be the chef here, although he looked more like a butcher than a chef. The man took turns looking at the two of us.

He continued, "A fairy and a lizardman? I don't recognize either of you, so you must be new. Don't you know that barging into the kitchen like this might earn you penalty points?"

"Regarding that lizardman over there," Michael replied, not at all flustered despite the situation. "Today, he defeated three centurion-class monsters."

"What?"

"With minimum effort, he will soon gain hundreds of points. Maybe the director of Block 107 will change."

The chef snorted and said, "That kind of lie isn't funny."

"Why would I lie about something like this? It will be obvious by tomorrow morning anyway. If you don't believe me, go and check the lizardman's room. Except for this guy here, not a single one of them will be present. The monsters defeated were so large that everyone went out to dismantle them," Michael said.

The chef's sneering expression started to change little by little. Michael's attitude was so confident that he started second-guessing himself.

Michael continued, "Of course, he might not become the director. But in exchange for stealing a few canned goods lying around, you can make someone who secured hundreds of points indebted to you. Isn't that a pretty good deal for you?"

The chef's eyes rolled as he touched a box of cans. Then he said in a low voice, "Three, no more than four. I can't cover anything more than that."

"Of course."

"Eat quietly," the chef said, then left the dining hall with a somewhat sullen expression.

Michael swept up the cans with a smile on his face and said, "Now, Brother. Eat anything you like. They are all sorted by type. There are all sorts of things. Canned frogs? Ugh."

"Didn't he say no more than four?" I asked.

"It's okay. After he finds out about your performance, he won't be able to say anything even if you eat ten. That is how important points here are."

These words somehow reminded me of something a long time ago. At the Badniker training camp, there were times when I similarly risked my life for one or two points. Of course, the meaning of points to the prisoners seemed to be several times greater than that.

"Ah, right. I didn't bring a can opener," Michael said.

I silently extended my claws and opened the can. Michael clapped with an impressed look on his face.

That was how the meal began. Most of the canned food went into my stomach. Michael only tasted a bit of it.

At the same time, he informed me on the overall knowledge of life in the labor camp. "When not defeating monsters, prisoners do things like cleaning, transporting goods, and opening roads. Then when the alarm goes off, they immediately form subjugation teams.

"Basically, you can't leave the vicinity of the block after sunset. If you are caught by the guards while wandering outside the area, you will be punished on the spot.

"The only day we get off is the last day of the week. On that day, people such as peddlers come to the living quarters and you can buy pretty much anything you want with the points you have saved up."

By the time I heard all of the rough explanations, my meal was over. I finally felt full and looked at Michael.

Michael wondered, "Do you have anything more to ask?"

"There is only one thing left. It is the thing I am most curious about," I said.

"Say it."

"Who are you?"

"I told you, I am Michael. No way, Brother. Do you not remember my name—"

"I'm not asking about your name, your race, or the crimes you committed."

I had always thought something was suspicious.

In the carriage filled with lesser races, this fairy had spoken to me. He had been friendly to me ever since. Despite this being his first day in prison like me, he was already familiar with the labor camp as if he had been a prisoner for several years. Every time I was in a difficult moment, he appeared appropriately and helped me.

Arang had once said that even a wonderful coincidence could happen twice. However, three times was statistically almost impossible. This was the moment when I could turn doubt into confidence.

"Umm..." Michael scratched his head in a troubled manner. Then he raised his arms as if he was about to surrender and said, "That's right. You noticed it quickly. It is me."

"So who are you?" I asked.

"The Dark Pope."

I fell silent.