Alien world

Chapter 1878, Section 511: I mean everyone here is trash.
Of the several thousand lords present in the Holy Council, at least a third were connected to the Church of Wealth. Regardless of whether they were lay believers or not, their status as the Son of Annan was genuine.

Even in turbulent years, no one can guarantee that there aren't any extremist lunatics among the believers willing to do anything for their faith—perhaps they think it will make them more...
Grand Duke Windmill pursed his lips, beginning to realize how foolish it was to jump out and pledge his loyalty so hastily.

Annan shook his head, finding it boring. Was this what it felt like to play dumb and outsmart others? It was nothing special…

Perhaps if the King of Gems or his candidates were to personally participate, it might pique his interest.

"I'll talk to you about heresy later. Let's get back to the story we just discussed."

"Where was I... Oh, what a terrible system."

Annan emphasized the word, but this time the Grand Duke of Windmills dared not speak out again. He spread his hands and said, "I am not here to criticize the weakness of the nobility; I simply want to say that this small country is a microcosm of the current state of Middle-earth."

"At first, we claimed that nothing was wrong. Then, we said that everything was under control. When it spread, we said it was too late. Finally, we said that we should have done something in the first place."

"The lord just now thought I was targeting him. I'm sorry, I need to clarify something."

Annan looked at the Grand Duke of Windmills, who avoided his gaze, then looked at the man with the goatee and said, "I'm not targeting you, I'm saying that everyone here is—trash."

As expected, Annan's words caused a huge uproar in the Holy Council, with noisy discussions everywhere, perfectly replicating the behavior of the small countries in the story—the lords of the Middle-earth who were affected were indignant, while the lords of the West and South were gloating and watching the show.

All eyes of the other candidates were fixed on this young, even somewhat childish, boy. The bespectacled young man had a deep gaze, as if he were considering Annan Reeves's purpose in provoking all the human lords.

Many also looked toward the King of Bones and the King of Gems—Annan's insults also included these two supreme kings.

The King of Bones remained silent, for Annan was the candidate he had nominated. Meanwhile, another old man, whose collar Annan had grabbed, couldn't contain himself any longer.

"What are you implying?" the King of Gems asked slowly.

Khamis VI slowly slid off the chair, trying to pretend he didn't recognize Annan.

Annan deliberately didn't turn around, continuing to stare at the goatee-bearded nobleman, his intention clearly directed at him: "When the ratmen came, you retreated, watched the show, and fought amongst yourselves... You all felt it was none of your business, only the warriors were struggling on the front lines."

"As a result, the Northern War lasted for three whole years, and everyone watched as the Chaos Skaven recovered and once again set their sights on Middle-earth."

At this point, Annan paused for a moment. He had hoped that Philipn Verick would come to him and let him test his mettle.

Surprisingly, Philipne Verric, dressed as a gloomy poet, was surprisingly composed and showed no intention of leaving the stage.

Annan had no choice but to continue: "Let me state the facts. As of now, only three forces are resisting the Northern Chaos forces, which consist of the McKenne clan and demons: the Tathun Empire, the Dimon Kingdom, and myself."

“Four thousand nine hundred and thirteen,” Annan stated a number. “That’s the number of casualties suffered by the Imperial Blackwatch Legion.”

"One hundred and eighty-one, seven hundred and seventy-nine, these are the casualties of Free City and the resistance forces counted yesterday at the Northern Great Wall."

"So I believe I am qualified to stand here and say these words to all of you."

Annan's greatest assessment of the humans on the continent of Allen was his anger at their lack of ambition.

Despite being in the human era, possessing the largest territory, wielding the most powerful forces, and having the best opportunities… they selfishly allowed the Macken ratmen to cause such immense destruction, displacing hundreds of millions of people. Their faith in "humanity" is even less than that of Annan, this alien from another world whose mind is filled with thoughts of other races.

"Little one, humans' enemies are not just ratmen."

A light, melodious voice rang out in the sacred hall, silencing the clamor of the council.

Annan turned to the oldest Feather King and said respectfully, "It is undeniable that the continent of Allen faces many crises, all of which have been suppressed by heroes from various regions. In particular, most of the Supreme Kings have more pressing matters to attend to."

"But that certainly doesn't include those people I specifically include."

Not many people care about the phrase "the majority," and those who do care can't ask Annan who he's really referring to.

The King of Feathers chuckled: "It seems you don't know much about the Golden Family of Montreal. They are a bunch of selfish barbarians. They are selfish to those around them, and selfish to their enemies as well."

The word “selfish” as used by the King of Feathers is an ancient character that differs from the common language. It means “selfish” but also carries additional meanings, such as the meaning of “self”.

The Feather King said that the Empire is a lone wolf. It doesn't need partners or allies. It is its own alliance and its own team.

A group is a spontaneous act of the weak gathering together for self-protection, but when you are strong enough and unafraid of any threat, you can be alone and do whatever you want.

Annan: I exterminated a total of forty million ratmen.

Empire: Very well, so what about yesterday?
So it's not that the Middle-earth kingdoms were unwilling to deal with the northern ratmen—it's that the Empire didn't need them.

Annan didn't know if the Feather King was telling the truth or speaking on behalf of the other nations—or perhaps speaking on his own behalf, since the term "trash" he had just used encompassed a rather broad range of people.

He accepted the King of Feathers' kindness, smiled shyly, and said, "I hope I'm just being cynical."

Finally, it was time for the candidate for King of Feathers: a girl about the same height as Anan, with short, choppy hair that didn't cover her neck, dressed in a colorful outfit that included both the colors of her clothes and the colors of flowers and plants, looking just like a bard.

As soon as she appeared, she shrank back like a cowardly squirrel, her voice trembling as she said, "They saw me, they know me, they're going to kill me..."

The atmosphere in the council, which had been humiliated by Annan's pointed fingers and insults, finally livened up. There was even a lord who didn't have the guts to cause a ruckus; it would be better to let him do it.

"You've come... what's your name?" the girl asked the lord.

“I am the Baron Sighs.” He spoke with a hint of pride, as if he were somewhat famous.

The girl bit her finger, trembling even more violently, but what she said gradually silenced the Holy Council.

"You want to take my throne, and to protect myself, I have no choice but to kill you..." Her eyes gradually lost focus, and she murmured, "And you all, you also want to take my things, and you want to kill me... Will I be safe after I kill you all?"

None of the eleven candidates, including Annan, responded. Only Isaberg Rom raised her eyebrows and said defiantly:

"You want to kill me? Then try it."

(End of this chapter)