This Isn’t an E*otic Game?

Mammon's jaw dropped.

[What the hell is this guy?]

Such skillful agitation.

And the words he spoke didn’t seem like something hastily prepared in a day or two.

He was a prepared agitator, if there ever was one.

In the end, things took a turn for the worse, just as Mammon feared.

Instead of stepping down from the stage, the Saint had inserted himself as one of the central figures.

[That damn bastard! Why won't he just leave!!!]

Normally, a "Chosen One" or Saint would be someone clueless about the world, solely relying on the will of the gods.

Because of this, if their actions caused harm or suffering to those around them, Saints and Saintesses typically suffered as well, either leaving or becoming flustered and turning to their gods for guidance, only to make things worse.

That was the usual pattern, but this Saint didn’t play along.

[What the hell should I do now?]

Mammon had to sit and think for a while.@@novelbin@@

He looked down at the city.

The workers, who had started in the thousands, now numbered in the tens of thousands. Soon, they would swell into hundreds of thousands, joining the strike led by the Saint.

It was the very scene Mammon had hoped for.

[This was supposed to be the start of an endless war between the money-driven businessmen and the power-hungry labor theorists…]