Chapter 145

The incident was over, but the situation had escalated big time.

Victoria, by the time it was all done, was sprawled on the floor like a ragdoll, shoving sweets into her mouth as she lay in a muddy mess.

When things calmed down at noon, the Betga family brought Victoria back to her house.

And that evening, reporters and journalists started showing up at the Betgas’ place.

Maurice refused all interviews right off the bat, but you know how it goes—nobody actually leaves just because of that.

Every news broadcast or paper mentioned the tragedy in Bern City alongside talk of “the miracle of Bern City”… and there I was, featured prominently.

Surprisingly, not much focus was on Victoria.

That’s because out of 9,000 harvesters, only two parts—or more precisely, 181 individuals—manifested psychic abilities. Though technically, only 129 used their powers publicly.

The rest kept it hidden.

Anyway, most psychics gained similar abilities, roughly falling into three categories.

One: enhanced mobility. Not teleportation, but the ability to move quickly or carry multiple people while descending from great heights.

Two: elemental control. Wind, water, fire—it seems these were granted to counteract potential disasters.

Three: survival skills. Creating barriers, toughening the body, or instantly regenerating from wounds.

Total count: 9,190.

At first glance, that sounds like a lot.

But considering the end of the First World, where there were nearly 100 million harvesters, this isn’t such a large number.

Back then, anyone reciting the contract would immediately seal it. No thought was given to controlling the numbers since they didn’t realize too many could cause collapse.

Once it spread, the numbers exploded exponentially.

Restricting it now means no danger. Meaning, with this number, we’re still far from the deadline.

This time, I want to try building a sustainable automatic warmth-harvesting system.

Anyway…

Tens of thousands in Bern City witnessed me granting abilities.

The media asked about it, focusing less on why the event happened and more on covering the so-called “miracle.”

As a result…

The Betgas’ neighborhood is crawling with reporters.

Of course, thanks to the soldiers maintaining order, nobody’s breaking into the house. But having cameras constantly pointed at you is seriously annoying.

Still, Maurice and Beatrice don’t have the energy to complain.

Because right now, a special envoy from the royal family is here.

“Are you the apostle of God?”

A dapper gentleman in vintage attire, the mayor of Bern City, and several bulky figures in exoskeletons are present.

Fortunately, the religious undertones here aren’t heavy.

Digging through my memories of the Third World reveals why.

Up until a hundred years ago, there were fanatical religious groups who acted as bulwarks against dangerous wilds, protecting human settlements.

This gave them immense authority, leading the kingdom to counterbalance them by enhancing physical capabilities through magitech.

Then a massive scandal involving various nations and their state religions erupted, causing faith to rapidly decline. Taking advantage of the chaos, nearly every nation pushed forward magitech-based powerful mechanical devices and the philosophy of pure reason.

It worked. Religion lost its power and fell.

Nowadays, people believe in technology itself. It reminds me of the Belle Époque—an era filled with hope for science and technology to illuminate the future.

So naturally, when someone claims to be an apostle of God, interest peaks.

For many reasons, it’s dangerous.

Thus, I approached him and said:

“I’m not an apostle of God. I have no connection to any deity.”

I almost said ‘biological entity,’ but that felt too vague, so I left it ambiguous.

The man introduced himself as being from the royal court, his eyes sharpening. To him, I probably look like a little girl speaking, yet he views me as something dangerous that must be neutralized.

“So, are you a demon, then?”

“Isn’t that what gods call deities outside their own religion?”

With that jab, his gaze shifts to one of caution toward an unknown entity. Hard to tell how advanced theology is here.

At least in this city, people aren’t particularly devout. They just acknowledge its existence or know some folks in the countryside still attend church.

“Perhaps I’m an endangered species. If there are others like me, they’d likely be rare, maybe even unique.”

While I’m upstairs, if something happens downstairs, it might mean a relative has appeared.

Saying this, I see understanding dawn on the man’s face, followed by visible relief.

Thank goodness.

He sees me not as some occult ghost but as a biological entity that can be dealt with—one nearing extinction.

An endangered, fragile, and pitiful creature.

He looks at me with that kind of sympathy.

“So, those you blessed—what exactly does this blessing entail? The ones who can heal from any wound and use special powers like that girl there?”

His tone changes. He’s no longer dealing with an unknowable force but rather someone potentially dangerous. His use of “you” shifts from formal to informal.

Easy.

“I don’t fully understand it myself, but I have some guesses. Would that be okay?”

“Go on.”

Each time he asks for clarification, I notice his tension easing and his shoulders tightening. In his eyes, I’ve shifted from an enigmatic presence to someone beneath him.

“I suspect it draws out the best potential in people. Maybe humans are inherently strong, intelligent, and capable of extraordinary psychic abilities. However, once someone’s potential is unlocked, it can’t be done again.”

I have to add this part.

Explaining upfront why there’s no second chance avoids future complaints. Why help once but not twice?

If favors keep coming, people start treating them as rights. Better to set boundaries clearly to avoid resentment later.

By preemptively explaining, I shift responsibility onto them for whatever happens next.

Sure, I’m the bad guy here.

The entire contract is fraudulent, after all.

Pretend ignorance, push it aside, and claim I truly didn’t know. That way, if research uncovers anything later, I have an escape route.

“Is that… human capability?”

The man stares at me, astonished.

“Yes. Exactly. I merely push them. Honestly, I don’t know why it works. Aren’t humans supposed to be strong?”

Subtly boosting humanity’s image.

He gazes at me intently before asking:

“Why did you alter them?”

This is really asking why I turned people into harvesters. So, I stick to the facts.

“They wanted it. If they hadn’t, I wouldn’t have moved.”

This shifts responsibility to Victoria, framing me as a machine offering possibilities without intent.

In reality, I act believing that giving power leads to self-destruction. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, right?

“Do you desire strength?”

Famous line, dropping it firmly.

The man stares at me silently for a while before replying:

“I’ll answer that question later.”

Postponement isn’t bad. Coming from the royal court, he’s probably better at verbal sparring than I am.

Then he turned away from me to talk with Beatrice, Maurice, Victoria, and others.

Or rather, interrogate.

Beatrice and Maurice claimed they knew little about me, prompting him to approach Victoria.

He asked where we met.

Victoria hesitated, glancing at me for permission. I responded:

“You can tell him everything.”

She recounted the events after being captured by the fishman Sahakin, including our escape. At the mention of Sahakin trying to summon a god, everyone’s attention turned back to me. Shaking my head, I pointed at Victoria.

The story went: summoning a god awakened a monstrous entity—but it wasn’t the god they expected. Then, instead of becoming a monster, Victoria became a harvester, healed completely, and survived using newfound psychic abilities. Finally, she explained how she brought me home despite my reluctance.

“How have you been here?”

Victoria described her daily life over the past week.

Beatrice chimed in, agreeing and adding details.

Watching this, Maurice’s gaze softened, tinged with apology for putting his daughter through all this—it was hilarious.

“Did you force this so-called blessing on anyone outside?”

“No. In fact, I warned against rushing. Once transformed, injuries won’t heal again.”

Beatrice’s words eased the man’s guarded expression significantly.

Heh.

This is why I act as a mere observer. No matter how tempting it may seem to exploit others’ heat, I don’t want to charge in recklessly only to get hunted like prey.

Actions match words.

Important. Being truthful in behavior shines brightest in moments like these.

After probing further into my personal life, he issued a warning not to discuss today’s events with unauthorized people.

Then he left with his entourage.

Thinking things would cool down, I planned to stay low for a while… but…

Early next morning.

A piece of paper arrived, labeled as an invitation but read as an order.

Despite flowery language, boiled down, it said:

Invitation to the Royal Palace.

Press conference scheduled.

Award ceremony for actions during the Bern City disaster.

Enrollment at the Royal Academy.

Recipients: Bell & Victoria.

“But Mom! What about my clockwork knight school?”

“They’re fully funding it. Think of it as moving to a better place…”

Victoria clutched her head while Beatrice wore an expression suggesting she saw this coming.

There’s a difference between the invitation for me and Victoria. She’s genuinely invited, whereas my legal residence will officially transfer from the Betgas to the royal family under the guise of protecting an orphan.

Which suits me fine. I wanted this anyway. How much warmth can I extract from high-ranking officials? Haha!

Except for one snag.

“A academy? Are you insane?”

Enrollment at the Royal Academy? Sending me to school? Victoria sidled up to me, her playful grin betraying sheer escapism.

“Why don’t you wanna go?”

“Well, compared to regular people, I’m kinda… not the sharpest tool in the shed…”

That’s the problem. Even with memories, I struggle to apply them effectively.

“Wait, you’re a monster AND dumb?”

“Hey, being dumb doesn’t stop me from surviving.”

Victoria chuckled teasingly before nodding thoughtfully.

“Guess I’ve learned something new today: if your brain’s weak, your body suffers—but the reverse holds true too…”

Yeah…

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