A dull longsword and a heartbroken villager

"No, no, no, this is quite boring," Jonathan muttered to himself as he weaved through the crowd.

He even considered throwing a "divine source" at the man from before, which might cause a wild god to appear on the spot.

Just thinking about it is incredibly exciting.

However, if that man can't take it and self-destructs on the spot, Jonathan will suffer a great loss.

"Divine Source" and such are not as common as cabbage.

"What exactly do I want to see?" Jonathan's mask revealed a troubled expression.

He later witnessed Nisa leading the "Great Enemy of God" to fight the Silver Race.

To be honest, although Nisha is a very serious person with a lot of personal charm, her actual abilities are not that great.

Even if you have no idea what silver is, you might still have to suffer.

However, after Jonathan heard Nisha's words and saw her charge in the valley, he suddenly understood.

"Ohhhhhh!" Even more shocking than the apocalyptic scene made Jonathan's brain tremble.

Because Bray was badly beaten by the "Demigod Lord", Jonathan thought he wouldn't encounter anything interesting anymore.

But he suddenly realized that he was wrong.

It's not just Nisha, it's Eric, it's Carrasco, and...

Jonathan kept tapping his mask, as if regretting that he hadn't realized this before.

This is the flavor that's been missing!

What Jonathan wanted to see was everyone fighting with this spirit, not just people sighing and complaining.

What could be more anticipated than the confrontation between the insignificant and the sublime?

No, we have to find a way to keep this great thing going, otherwise the world will become boring.

"Go! Go!!!" Jonathan found a flag somewhere and stood on the valley floor, waving it and cheering for Nisha—even though he was one of the people who caused this tragedy, he seemed completely oblivious. It seemed that many people were working hard to "save" this apocalypse.

But not everyone is making an effort.

Some people don't work hard because they lack the ability themselves, and instead rely on others.

But there are also those who can do something, yet choose not to act.

Gulid held a cigarette between his fingers and slowly began to smoke.

He squinted, enjoying the pleasure this wicked thing brought him.

Ha, it's a really bad thing, because it's addictive.

After all, the word "addiction" itself is not a good word.

Even as lives are being taken at an unprecedented pace, Goode remains unmoved. Even when someone criticizes him for holding the ring but not doing what he should be doing, he simply glances at the person with disdain.

He will still leisurely sit here smoking, unmoved by the words of those people.

If you want someone to do it, why point fingers and ask others to do it instead of doing it yourself?

Can't do it? Hahaha, what a great excuse.

If you want it, go get it! If you want to do it, go do it! If you can't even be honest with your own desires, what right do you have to boss others around?

So what were those people doing while they were blaming him?

Even saints can be insulted and attacked.

Goodeid himself harbored considerable skepticism about the very act of "doing good," and the reason was quite simple—

Why help others if you don't receive any tangible benefits in return?

By the way, not only will it not bring any benefits, but the final outcome may be quite tragic.

At least Goode had seen many people like that: kind and helpful, then dead without a trace.

He couldn't understand why Tristey, the ranger who followed him around, was so full of this "sense of mission".

Even Laurentina, who had no connections or social standing, was forcibly dragged away by her, who said she was going to save those people.

As for why Gulid wasn't pulled away, it's simply because Tristia couldn't move him.

Where does the sense of mission to save this apocalyptic world come from? Or is the core of this sense of mission still "helping others"?

In that case, Goodrid has absolutely no interest in saving the world; he is unwilling to do something that will not benefit him at all.

Some might say that since all the Dark Iron races were destroyed, what's the point of Greed being alive?

too naive.

Numerous and weak creatures are the most difficult to eliminate.

The population may dwindle, and eventually only a few cities may remain, but it will definitely not be wiped out.

The so-called "black iron type" is actually a species that is very difficult to extinguish.

Humans are capable of saving themselves; if there is no savior, people will save themselves.

With a savior in sight, people have become too lazy to save themselves.

Self-rescue may fail, but with over a billion people, it's impossible for all of them to fail in their self-rescue efforts.

At least that's what Goode thought. If everyone gave up on saving themselves, then it was best to pretend he never said that.

"Helping others often results in you losing everything, but you get nothing in return."

"You might not even receive gratitude in return."

"Why would someone do something like this?" Gureed exhaled a puff of white smoke and muttered to himself.

"—Because the so-called Black Iron race cannot survive alone..." A voice came from Greed's ring.

The self-awareness "Sherfield" within the ring has been trying to guide Goode onto the right path.

But...

"Stop being so noisy, stop trying to give me pep talks." After interrupting "Sheffer," Gulid took a deep drag on his cigarette.

Just like that, Goodeid is never affected by any words; his thoughts, values, worldview, and so on are unbreakable.

His ideas are not worth scrutinizing; they are full of flaws.

It's ridiculous that Goode would bother to examine his own ideas.

“Speaking of which… a lot of things have been destroyed because of you, you know?” Gureed stubbed out his cigarette at the clown mask he was standing on.

"Sizzle sizzle sizzle sizzle—" The cigarette butt burned the mask, and although it did not leave any scorch marks on the mask, it still made a very unpleasant sound.

“I don’t care if you and those Silver Races want to conquer the world.”

"But why destroy so many places? A lot of things I need are gone." Gurid's snake-like eyes, hidden by the shadow of his bangs, looked particularly sinister.

"Huh? E ...

“Wait a minute, Mr. Goodluck! This really has little to do with me,” Jonathan said somewhat embarrassedly after his initial shock.

Honestly, Jonathan still hasn't figured out why he was stepped on by Goodeid.

Having just cheered on Nisa and her "Great Enemy of God," he seemed quite satisfied as he ran off to the next city on the Eastern Continent.

And then, that's how I ended up.

How strange! How much of the plot was skipped in the middle?!

"Bang! Bang!" "Smack! Smack!" In just a few moments, he was cold and trampled underfoot.

In the end, how did Goode end up in the Eastern Continent? Jonathan now really wants to write down the questions in his head into a book, which he'll call the Great Collection of Mysteries.

"That guy Marek should be dead by now. You're the only one who's causing chaos in Kapras."

"Oh dear, although I'm a little happy to hear you praise me like that, it's impossible for me to do it all by myself," Jonathan said shyly, scratching his head as he lay on the ground.

“Restore those things to their original state.” Goodred looked down at Jonathan.

"What things?"

"I wanted it, but you took it away."

"Huh???? This is really difficult." Jonathan couldn't help but feel troubled.

Goodeid didn't say anything, but simply fixed his sharp gaze on Jonathan.

He wanted Jonathan to achieve his goal using the concept missile.

Since everyone says concepts are omnipotent, let's show them what omnipotence is.

“Actually, if Mr. Goodeid wanted those things to stay safe, why didn’t he protect those cities? That way, the world would be at peace…” Jonathan tried to ask.

Then he immediately felt the pressure coming from the mask.

"Creak—" The mask was deforming little by little, and it was in danger of cracking at any moment.

"Wait a minute!" Jonathan's tone seemed a little flustered, his head was being stepped on but his body was still twisting around.

How could this person who observes the precepts be so twisted? It's terrifying.

They neither intend to protect anything nor allow others to destroy the city.

That kind of thinking won't do! It's neither villain nor hero; it's just too twisted!

"Shoot him."

"Hey! This request is so sudden..." Jonathan said weakly.

"Shoot me, concept bullets," Gureed said impatiently a second time.

"Then... give me a specific range?" The Joker compromised.

---

P.S.: Single update, taking a break, liver pain.

"The more detailed the better, that way maybe the little guy can help you find it," Jonathan suggested.

“‘Victory Stone’ and ‘Crimson Eyes’.” Gureed ignored Jonathan’s words and simply uttered two terms.

“Oh! Oh my! It seems I really do know these two things.” Jonathan exclaimed, “So it’s this.”

As the most honest man of this era, Jonathan certainly wouldn't lie; if he knows, he knows.

If you know the answer but lie and say "I don't know," that's just too much of a joke.

That's very rude and dishonest.

"I've seen this thing before, over a hundred years ago, of course," Jonathan said with utmost honesty. By that reckoning, he seemed to be quite old.

I'm a little worried; it seems I need to start paying more attention to skincare.

"Don't give me that crap. You should have bullets that can make things that have disappeared reappear." Goodeed raised his foot, grabbed Jonathan's hair, and said menacingly.

Jonathan, whose hair was being pulled, surprisingly did not struggle at all, but it seemed to be in pain.

"Ouch, ouch, ouch! If you keep pulling, I'll go bald!" Jonathan's voice sounded like he was really in pain.

“The concept pool is so large, it certainly contains the kind of concept you’re talking about, Mr. Goodeid,” Jonathan replied, while crying out in pain.

“But Mr. Goodeid, isn’t it fair to make a scoundrel work for free?” Jonathan tried to say.

"I only care about my own interests. What do your interests have to do with me?" Gurid said expressionlessly, his eyes icy cold.

"Wow, this kind of talk is so disgusting, I love it!" Jonathan said in a light tone, as if the pain he felt earlier was all an act.

They claim to prioritize their own interests, yet they completely disregard the interests of others. They are not only greedy but also extremely selfish!

He's definitely sticking to his established persona. It wouldn't be interesting if Mr. Goode just turned into a good guy so easily.

"I've made up my mind! I'll work for free this once!" The clown immediately perked up.

Goodfellow frowned, not understanding why the Joker was suddenly so excited, as if he had been injected with adrenaline.

“Now that we know exactly what they are, I have a way to make them reappear.” Jonathan revealed a meaningful smile on his mask.

Although it is said to be meaningful, it looks more like a comical smiley face.

"However, there is a problem now, which is that I am currently inside a magic array that can suppress concepts."

“Even if Jonathan had a hundred concepts, he wouldn’t be able to use them,” Jonathan said regretfully.

That's right, not only will the Silver type be suppressed here, but Jonathan's concept bullets will also be ineffective.