This Isn’t an E*otic Game?

Kal Lenaro and the labor theorists stood silently, gazing at the view outside the city.

The smell of grilled meat filled the air, and they watched the scene where the sick were being treated free of charge. Even the most impatient and radical of the labor theorists, at this moment, did not utter a single word.

"Thank you. Thank you! Saintess!!"

"Peace be with you."

The Saintess was frantically tending to ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) the sick.

The clergy of the Grace Church seemed very familiar with this situation, as they had taken the lightly injured for treatment themselves, while only the severely wounded or those suffering from genetic diseases, who could not be healed by ordinary miracles or divine power, were brought to the Saintess.

Thanks to the incredibly efficient field hospital system, countless beings were getting better in real time, leaving the hospital with tears of joy as they recovered.

"I want to believe in Lady Lilia. Priest."

"Please give me a copy of the holy scriptures."

"I want to follow the Saintess' teachings. Please give me a copy of the holy scriptures!"

The Grace Church members, despite not engaging in any missionary activity, were already seeing an incredible number of new converts, thanks to their self-sacrificial healing efforts that even cut into their own food and sleep.

"Religion is the workers' drug," one labor theorist murmured, and Kal Lenaro chuckled softly.

"But the reality is so painful that sometimes, we need to be hit, don’t we?"

"I agree."

"Of course. We can’t just let them depend on drugs forever. In the end, the workers must be able to stand on their own."

"Of course, comrade Lenaro."

Kal Lenaro stood up from his seat.

"Comrades. As the Saintess instructed, we will lay down our guns and bombs. Instead, we will continue the war in the most true-to-ourselves way. The general strike is not over. The laws and power of the Empire have finally turned in our favor. If we don’t act now, when will we?"

The labor theorists smiled.

"Propaganda materials are ready."

"We have selected the loudest comrades and have already posted the wanted notices."

"Signs and flags have already been made."

Kal Lenaro nodded at these words.

Then, at the same time, he gave a bitter smile.

"I wish there were comrades still in the camps."

Most of the remaining labor theorists here were upper-level officials.

The field workers who had become familiar with the laborers’ faces were mostly locked in the concentration camps.

If they were here, organizing the protest would be much easier, but what could be done? They were not present.

No one knew when they would be released.

"But what can be done? We must proceed without them..."

"Comrade Lenaro!! Please come here for a moment!!"

"Comrades!! The comrades who were in the concentration camps are coming out!!"

At the urgent voice from outside, the expressions of the upper-level officials brightened significantly.

Looking urgently toward Scrap Yard, a group of people in prisoner uniforms could be seen walking out, escorted by Black Fortress interrogators and Ketrautus members from the White Church.

Their haggard faces and the skin that seemed to have been worn down from hardship showed the suffering they had endured, but their eyes were sharper and more alive than ever.

"Ref!! Moltoff!! Roza!! You’re still alive!!"

"Comrade Lenaro!!"

The two groups of labor theorists embraced each other in a hug at the entrance of Scrap Yard. Watching their reunion, a Black Fortress interrogator approached and said a few words to them.

"The labor theorists from the camps have been cleared of being demon worshippers. They have been released. However, if any evidence of violating the law or engaging in violence or terrorism is found again, they will be re-incarcerated immediately. Terrorism and violence will never be tolerated."

"Of course."

After the interrogators and Ketrautus members left, the labor theorists gathered together and immediately entered into a meeting.

"We will continue the general strike protest started by the Saintess."

"Please include us."

"We cannot miss this opportunity. We will join."

"But isn’t everyone sick from their time in the camps?"

"We will get treated. No. Even if it costs us our lives, we must protest."

They all clenched their teeth tightly.

"We must see the capitalists of this city scream with our own eyes."

"I’ll gladly die protesting. I will definitely participate."

Kal Lenaro smiled with satisfaction at their words.

"Go and get treatment from the Saintess. She will make your bodies as good as new. And once the treatment is done, let’s protest. Remember this, comrades."

Kal Lenaro slammed his fist onto the table.

"The downfall of the capitalists in this city must be completed by the workers’ hands. We must be the main actors. No, the Black Fortress, the Grace Church, or the Temple of the Gods must not be the main agents. Let’s raise our voices! We may not have guns and swords, but... with our ideology!! With the will of our united comrades, we will achieve it!!"

Kal slowly draped a red cloth he had placed in the corner over his forehead and chest. The red cloth bore the crossed pickaxe and hammer, clearly displayed.

These were the tools symbolizing the workers and the coat of arms of the labor theorists in Scrap Yard, the city of miners and blacksmiths.

Until now, they had never been able to display this emblem in the middle of the street due to the police, but now, it would be different.

"Let’s go. Let’s win in the most true-to-ourselves way!!"

This was the first sentence that heralded the beginning of the first large-scale strike protest, which would later be recorded in the history of the Empire.

****

The labor theorists' skills were almost like art.

Under Kal Lenaro's and the upper-level officials’ orders, the various organizations began to function smoothly like a well-oiled machine.

"District 3’s district leader will distribute these signs and cloths to the comrades!"

"District 3’s leader will spread this to the regional union leaders! Have them gather their members immediately! No use of weapons or violence! This is Comrade Lenaro’s order!!"

"Wrap these cloths around your foreheads and chests!!"

"Wash yourselves and wear the cleanest clothes!! This is a moment that will go down in the history of the Empire!! Let’s show everyone that workers are not the miserable, defeated ones!!"

"Call the reporters! Pay them if you have to! Make sure they bring cameras! They must capture these moments! The whole Empire must know!!"

They drew in the media and organized their stance, clearly laying out the contradictions and mistakes of the capitalists.

Then, after clearly deciding how to improve the treatment of workers, they began their protest in earnest.

The protest, which was started with the touch of an expert, quickly grew to a massive scale.

The workers of Scrap Yard were hardworking people.

It was an era where if you didn’t work, you starved to death, so they had no choice but to be diligent.

Yet, in the past few days, these people, who had always been diligent throughout their lives, suddenly found themselves eating without any cost, sleeping in warm and soft beds, and their sick bodies healed, while their families were in good condition.

They were without worry for the first time, and with newfound free time, they needed something to do. At just the right moment, Kal Lenaro gave them the perfect task.

And then...

"Let’s go, comrades!! Let’s deny our lives as parts belonging to the factory and go out to claim our lives as humans!!"

"All workers of the city!! Unite!!"

"All we’ve lost are chains and shackles!! What we will gain is freedom and rights!! Let’s go for the dignity of being human!!"

"Let’s make the pigs of this city tremble before our protest!!"

The well-trained labor theorists' skills in inciting were extraordinary.

In no time at all, hundreds of thousands of workers filled the central square of Scrap Yard and the massive supply route leading to it, <Iron Road>, waving their signs and flags.

An unprecedented sight in the history of the Empire unfolded before their eyes.

"Breaking news!! Take it!! Take it!!!"

"Shorthand writer!! Where are you!! Write down every word they say!! Don’t miss a single thing!!"

The reporters rushed to the empty worker dormitory windows and rooftops, starting to take pictures of the scene.

The media’s attention.

A massive protest with no police force to suppress it.

An opportunity to make their voices heard throughout the Empire.

This was the stage for the labor theorists, and on that stage, they began to wield their weapons that they had sharpened for over a decade.

If it weren’t for the Saintess, their words could have split the Empire in half, but now they were being swung with terrifying cruelty.

"A 3-year-old child went blind while cleaning the chimneys!! This was due to the decision of the capitalists who, knowing that the child was in the chimney, continued to operate the factory and emitted toxic gases! There were no humans in the factory! Only parts! Parts only!!"

"The only creatures left in this city were those who denied life and morality, those beasts who rejected the dignity of humans!!"

"Here, we solemnly declare!! We are founding the Imperial Workers' Association, and the association will continue to fight against the greed of the capitalists!! We will work to improve the rights of workers!!"

After declaring the founding of the association with a majestic speech that ignited the fire within, they began shouting slogans.

The hundreds of thousands of workers, under the command of the well-trained labor theorists, shouted in unison, and their cries were so powerful they seemed to shake the very ground.

"Give us wages that will allow us to maintain our human dignity!!"

"Guarantee rest times and meal times!!"

"We are not machines!! We have the right to work only during the designated hours and to rest during all other times!!"

The powerful shout of this slogan echoed throughout the entire city.

"Punish the capitalists who exploited humans and treated people inhumanely, ultimately bringing forth Mammon!!"

"Show us that law and justice still live in the Empire!!"

"Respond to our demands, the Imperial family and the Temple of the Gods!! Respond!!"

The desperate cries, full of lamentation, were immediately transcribed by the reporters and, the very next day, were featured on the front page of newspapers across the Empire.

"Send this article throughout the Empire? That’s difficult. We’d need to use magical communication, but it’s usually quite expensive."

"I’ll pay for all of it."

"If it's just letters, it’s one thing, but sending pictures requires a lot of equipment. We need skilled magicians and witches as well..."

"We’ll help."

With the help of Jonathan Karma, Erfa, and mages and witches from the Magic Tower in the capital, it became possible.

The newspaper articles that appeared created an enormous shock and spread across the Empire like a wave.

"It is said that Mammon's followers were created due to the exploitation of workers."

"A 3-year-old child worked so much that his fingers were deformed... It's strange if it didn’t happen."

"The Temple of the Gods had warned about such events for a long time. It’s just that no one listened."

Voices of self-reflection began to rise from the aristocracy.

The reason for this was that noblewomen and young ladies, who had no reason to know or care about the miserable conditions of the workers, started speaking up.

And leading the public opinion of these aristocratic women was none other than:

Jonathan Karma's daughter.

Cecilia Karma.

"Before I met the Saintess, I lived in an old house near the slums. Thinking back to what I saw then, I’m not even surprised by what’s happening now."

At salons.

At balls.

At poetry recitations.

At various concerts.

Cecilia shared her experience of living in the slums, something that no other noblewoman had, and her stories always stirred an enormous reaction.

"Oh my God!! Did you say the skin was rotting and falling off?"

"Your mother couldn't bear to abandon the dead baby and just held it?"

"Oh... Grace... What have we done?"

And that evening.

Cecilia, her mother, grandmother, and wife, returned to the noble mansion, where they confronted their husband, father, and son.

"Husband, is it true that our family’s business was being run this way? Please tell me it's not true."

"My dear, don’t worry. I’ve been handling things well..."

"Mammon’s followers have emerged!! Mammon’s followers!! These Mammon followers emerged, preying on the workers’ resentment! Are you going to let our family face an inquisition? No! As a human who knows ethics and morality, how could you allow this!"

"Father, if our family treated workers like what’s been reported in the newspapers under your orders... I might never be able to look at you the same way again."

There was no father or husband who could ignore the terrifying public opinion of the women.

As a result, the public opinion in aristocratic society slowly began to shift.

The direction was toward improving and advancing workers’ rights.

And the one who noticed this trend the fastest was Cecilia, who immediately informed Princess Almene.

While Iomene was leading the field command at Scrap Yard, Almene was working on legislation in the capital. The moment she received the information from Cecilia, she went straight to the Emperor.

"Do you want to try this?"

"Excuse me?"

"If you want to solidify your position as a successor, you’ll need some noticeable achievements. You’re responsible for pushing forward the labor law. Convince the elders in the Senate. Fortunately, the mood seems to be leaning in your favor, so it shouldn’t be too difficult."

Almene smiled brightly.

"I’ll do it! Father!"

Almene spared no time, meeting with the senators in the Imperial Senate, even cutting into her time for eating and sleeping.

It was a bonus that the Temple of the Gods subtly helped with her persuasion.

"Count Albion. To continue running the business as you are now is no different from producing more Mammon followers and demon worshippers. I know you are a loyal subject to the Empire. Please cast your vote in favor of the labor law."

"Yes, yes. That’s what I will do, Your Highness... Could the people behind me step back? If you could just move those guns and knives from their belts..."

"Removing weapons would violate the Codex Prorelium, Count."

The most elite paladins and combat priests from the Ketrautus and various sects moved with Almene.

They said nothing, but just standing behind Almene applied great pressure on many of the nobles.

In just three days, Almene succeeded in persuading a majority of the Senate’s nobles.

And then, as if they had been waiting:

"How about we create a new labor law? What do you all think?"

"The Senate will follow Your Majesty’s will."

"Then call Kal Lenaro and Jonathan Karma to the Senate. Let them mediate between the capitalists and the workers and create and pass the labor law. This matter will not be handled by me, but by Almene, so please follow her orders."

The Emperor moved quickly to finalize the labor law.

And this news, once again, spread across the Empire within a day through Jonathan Karma and Erfa.

"Comrades!! His Majesty the Emperor has listened to our cries!! Tomorrow, my comrades and I will head to the Senate!!"

"Long live His Majesty the Emperor!! Long live the Arkal Empire!! Forever!!"

On the 5th day of the protest, the workers in the streets wept, embracing each other.

The emotion of the Empire’s laws and powers finally moving for them.

The joy that the Emperor had not abandoned them.

And the hope that their future lives could improve.

"Long live the Imperial Workers' Association!!"

"Long live Comrade Kal Lenaro!"

"Long live His Majesty the Emperor!!"

"Long live the Saintess!!"

The entire city was filled with the roars of the workers.

At that moment.

There seemed to be no one unhappy in Scrap Yard.

"You, you, you bastard!! You blew the whistle? How could you do this to me?! You should have taken it to the grave with you!!"

"I was about to spend my life in the Underground Temple of Silence as a heretic!! Shouldn’t I live too?!"

"You ungrateful bastard!!"

The factory owners, who were now in disarray, had started new operations.

"You, I didn’t do anything wrong!! This is all Mayor Biyass!! That bastard made me do it..."

"Officer."

"Yes?"

"Have you ever had soup through your nose? Soup knows the answer."

Except for the police officers who were hanging upside down with Black Fortress interrogators, drinking hot soup through their noses, of course.