Chapter 144

Some dude just popped outta the sewers, but it was just pure water comin’ up—it flowed alongside the house that was on fire like a sideways waterfall.

Like gravity decided to take a chill pill or somethin’, streams of water blasted upward from the ground, soaking the entire building as they flowed sideways.

Before long, the fire in that house started dyin’ down, and out burst a crowd with Victoria leadin’ the charge, rushin’ outta the buildin’.

But before Morris could even get near her, some random guy came sprintin’ from the side, kneelin’ in front of Victoria, beggin’ for help ’cause his kid was trapped in the next buildin’ due to the flames.

Without hesitatin’, Victoria headed straight over there.

Beatrice was busy evacuatin’ survivors with company personnel somewhere far off, while Morris just stood there, starin’ at Victoria like some kinda statue.

What’s he doin’ standin’ in the middle of the road like that?

I watched everything through the eyes of the Harvester.

Even five workers laborin’ far away noticed somethin’ was off about Bern City. Like, literally *everyone* around there seemed to be gazin’ at Bern City.

Turns out, the whole dang city’s on fire.

Black smoke’s risin’ everywhere now. A little while ago, it was white smoke, but not anymore.

Even folks way out in the suburbs are hearin’ stories circulatin’. For instance, how fire trucks goin’ in keep crashin’ or spreadin’ flames instead of stoppin’ ‘em.

There’s also whispers that wizards tryin’ to put out the fires can’t because there’s not enough magic power left in the air—they’re just sittin’ there frustrated.

Civilization’s grindin’ to a halt.

Still, amidst all this chaos, people’re headin’ into the inferno to save lives, includin’ five Harvesters. Not exactly surprising behavior.

It’s kinda light-hearted evil, y’know? Folks movin’ lightly, actin’ natural, meanin’ society here sees helpin’ others as normal—well, for now anyway.

Groups form, movin’ together to save whoever they can. But if someone gets hurt in the process? Their loss. Nobody’s gonna rescue them, and while they might be hailed as heroes temporarily, they’ll soon be forgotten.

In short, on an individual level, it’s stupid.

The proper move would be to stay back, thinkin’, “Man, that’s rough… I hope someone comes along to fix it.”

But here’s the kicker: This world doesn’t run on cold, fake logic like that.

Sometimes social or mental gains outweigh physical harm, and instincts kick in. Like climbers who scale mountains just because they’re there—or seals found starved to death halfway up Antarctic cliffs.

Mysterious impulses always exist.

So yeah, strong men and women alike march toward burnin’ Bern City.

They guide fleein’ folks to safety, try to douse flames, piece together mangled corpses from car crashes, and tend to the wounded.

Meanwhile, Victoria’s gotten better at usin’ water to snuff out fires on buildings. She’s faster now.

More people survive thanks to human effort.

Of course, not everyone acts noble. Some panic, screamin’ selfishly, demandin’ to be saved first or askin’ for their stuff instead of lives.

Not because they’re evil—it’s just their brains fryin’, clingin’ to whatever mattered most to them in that moment.

And then there’s the sneaky ones. Amidst the chaos, some sneak into buildings, grabbin’ valuables before jetting out. One guy even came outta a soaked building carryin’ loot.

Sure, it’s sleazy, but it works.

If someone asks, they can just say, “Hey, I was grabbin’ somethin’ important from my place,” and who’d argue?

Though yeah, only a few do this—but they’re definitely out there.

On the flip side, plenty of others grab tools and dive right in too, helpin’ strangers however they can. Some guys even soak themselves in bathroom water before rushin’ into fiery buildings, while groups pass buckets of water in relay lines to douse the flames.

It’s chaotic AF.

How you focus determines how you see people.

I just observe quietly.

My time hasn’t come yet.

Amidst screams, shouts, cries, explosions—a symphony of disaster—I wait.

Too few Harvesters and we’re screwed; too many and the world collapses.

Balance is key.

Besides, I’ve got a secret weapon nearby—none other than Morris.

His machine ain’t useless junk; it doesn’t leave residual magic, sure, but it has its tricks. Lower output, yeah, but if it drains human vitality instead of atmospheric magic power, problem solved! Though each use shaves years off your life—that’s the trade-off.

But hey, same machine could suck life force from others and pump it into you.

Not efficient, but still possible.

Who wouldn’t trade hundreds of lives for one extra year when humans are so cheap?

Only downside? Morality goes out the window. Humans become commodities, rights meaningless. Pure capitalism stomps ethics into the dirt.

Cyberpunk dystopia, anyone?

Or global persecution before it even starts.

Once created, though, it won’t disappear easily.

History will split into “before” and “after” humanity became fuel.

Curious about Morris’ choice, I sidled up beside him. He noticed me and spoke.

“Bell, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you fix this mess?”

Already said that once, but he seems distracted, so I repeat myself.

“I’m not a god.”

Could I? Sure. But might break the world doin’ it.

“Nope.”

“Didn’t you give Tori her powers? Why not share those psychic abilities with others?”

“Random. Can’t control what powers appear or who gets them.”

Though I have guesses.

Morris glances skyward where Victoria flies, little orbs of water under her feet keeping her airborne. Clever application.

“But if you do…”

Then another voice cuts in.

Perfect setup for a hero narrative.

Or rather, a public toy. Solo heroes either get torn apart by public opinion or exploited till they’re worthless corpses. Or worse, corrupted into villains.

Victoria finds a half-burned kid stuck in a distant building, scoops ‘em up.

Severe burns on the left side—gonna die without treatment.

Instead of landing after rescuing the kid, she freezes mid-air, lookin’ around nervously.

Searchin’ for something?

Her gaze locks onto me.

And then she flies straight at me.

Splash.

She lands, bows deeply with the kid in her arms.

“Bell. Bell-sama. Please save this child.”

Respectful honorifics.

Heh heh.

She just made the worst choice possible. Gave this dying kid to a monster.

Brilliant decision.

One last comment before proceedin’.

“You’ll regret this.”

But Victoria stares back unwaverin’. No words needed. I nod and approach the kid. Breathing’s labored, pain overwhelming.

None of that matters.

“To save yourself, I claim you. In return, when all this ends, I’ll take everything you own. Deal?”

I ask the kid. They want to live.

Contract sealed.

Instantly, their skin swells, cracks open, and out pops a blue-skinned boy.

“What the hell? Something went wrong…”

Victoria looks confused, so I shake my head.

“When someone near death contracts with me, their skin turns blue. Don’t know why.”

While I’m at it, I glance around and announce:

“If you wanna heal, contract with me.”

Seize the opportunity. First to come runnin’? Desperate parents clutchin’ their kids.

They hand over their children, I make contracts.

Some turn pale-skinned hybrids, others remain normal. Doesn’t matter if they were burned, limbless, or eyeless—if they’re alive, they revert to normal instantly.

Transformin’ into Harvesters happens quick. Contracts with injured souls come easy.

Soon, I’m surrounded by desperate cries for salvation and tearful gratitude.

Amidst the chaos, some shove others aside, prioritizin’ their survival or their kid’s—even killin’ in the process.

Love it. Those types become Harvesters immediately.

By the time night falls, I’ve been churnin’ out Harvesters nonstop.

Firefighters and soldiers finally arrive with heavy gear, cleanin’ up the mess.

That’s that.

Final tally: 9,190 Harvesters.

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