Refuse to Save a Life

Under the sharp, raptor-like gaze of Sebas, Momonga finally managed to figure out how to operate the Mirror of Remote Viewing.

He let out a long sigh of relief. The sensation reminded him of his few remaining memories from his student days—that feeling of having a teacher standing behind him while he did his homework, like needles pricking at his back.

He never expected that after all these years, and even after becoming an undead, he would experience that feeling once again.

Clap, clap, clap.

Sebas began to applaud, his expression earnest and serious as he offered his compliments. "Congratulations, Momonga-sama."

"Thanks, Sebas." Momonga turned his head to look at him, then added, "Sorry for the trouble of having you accompany me."

"What are you saying? Serving by the side of the Supreme Being and obeying your commands is the very meaning of a butler's existence. There is no need for apologies," Sebas replied.

Although Momonga hadn't explicitly asked Sebas to stay, he had apologized anyway. From an objective standpoint, he was the one who had required Sebas to be here; he simply couldn't bring himself to refuse, fearing that doing so might cause Sebas to harbor resentment.

Regardless of his inner thoughts, he had to maintain appearances. He needed to project the authority of the supreme ruler of the Great Tomb of Nazarick while ensuring he wasn't so harsh that his subordinates would grow to hate him.

This contradictory mindset was a reflection of Momonga's lack of self-confidence. After all, he had once been a nobody at the very bottom of society; it would be strange if he could suddenly wield such immense power with total confidence.

Having mastered the Mirror of Remote Viewing, Momonga used a waving motion to shift the scenery, a sensation much like operating a touchscreen device from his original world.

He continuously changed the images in the mirror, hoping to spot people—no, not necessarily humans, any intelligent life form would do. Though, if possible, humans were preferred.

However, Momonga suddenly felt the atmosphere grow strange again. Even though he had figured out how to control the item, Sebas remained standing behind him, watching with meticulous intensity.

He knew Sebas wasn't actually monitoring him or urging him to finish the task quickly, but his years of work experience made him feel that way regardless.

Momonga stole a glance at Sebas.

"Is something the matter, Momonga-sama? Is there anything you require?" A smile appeared on Sebas's meticulous face. He had grasped the subtle shift in Momonga's demeanor perfectly—the very quality a qualified butler should possess.

"No, it's nothing, Sebas."

Momonga spoke in a steady tone, though he couldn't help but grumble inwardly. Yet, no matter how much he complained, he couldn't change the situation, so he forced himself to focus on searching for intelligent life.

"Oh!"

He let out a sound of surprise and delight. Momonga had finally spotted something resembling a village in the mirror. His exclamation wasn't just because he had found signs of intelligent life, but also because he had finally completed his work under Sebas's meticulous "surveillance," allowing his mind to relax.

"Congratulations, Momonga-sama. I am truly impressed," Sebas praised him sincerely.

Yet, this praise made Momonga feel uncomfortable; he felt as if he had goosebumps, if he still possessed such things.

In the past, no matter how hard he worked, he never received any praise. To be lauded for completing such a trivial task caused a psychological reaction akin to an allergy.

But the priority now was to examine the village he had just discovered. Based on his observations, the village was located about ten kilometers southwest of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, near a forest, with wheat fields surrounding it.

"Hmm, the level of civilization doesn't seem very high."

Momonga judged this because he saw no signs of modern technology like power lines. If this world possessed such things, even a rural area would show some traces. Still, he kept it as a tentative conclusion; perhaps this place was simply very backward.

He continued to manipulate the scenery in the mirror, but after observing for a moment, he felt something was off.

"...Is this village holding a festival?"

Momonga saw people rushing in and out of the houses, appearing to be in a state of panic.

"No, this is not a festival," Sebas interjected suddenly. His tone was absolute, his sharp eyes fixed on the image in the mirror. One could even detect a hint of disgust in his voice.

"Hmm?"

Hearing this, Momonga adjusted the mirror to zoom in. Sure enough, he saw the reality of the people who had looked like mere grains of rice before.

Soldiers clad in full metal armor were using their swords to cut down villagers dressed in crude clothing. The people rushing in and out were merely being hunted as the soldiers searched house by house.

Every time a soldier swung his blade, a villager fell. The villagers had no means of resistance and could only flee in all directions. Some soldiers on horseback chased down the faster villagers, swinging their swords to decapitate them.

Without a doubt, this was a cold-blooded massacre—a one-sided slaughter.

"Tsk!"

Momonga clicked his tongue. He had hoped to gather more information through this village, but it was clear now that the village held no value.

If he were to intervene, he would inevitably come into conflict with those soldiers. The situation in this world was unknown, and rashly offending a local faction would bring no benefit to Nazarick.

Furthermore, the soldiers didn't look like they were open to communication. He might even be silenced as a witness to the massacre.

Whether he chose to save the villagers or engage the soldiers, there was no advantage for Nazarick.

Therefore, the correct course of action was—to do nothing.

Momonga felt a slight unease at making such a cold-blooded judgment. He knew the massacre before him was an atrocity, but for the sake of Nazarick's interests, he felt his choice was justifiable.

In the harsh environment of his original world, he might have remained unmoved even at the sight of a dead homeless child on the street. Perhaps it was this cold nature that allowed him to calmly decide not to intervene, or perhaps his undead body had stripped away the emotions expected of a human.

Although his moral sense from when he was human caused some inner turmoil, Momonga felt that at least this way, he wouldn't let emotions compromise the interests of Nazarick.

Besides, this was just the law of the jungle—the strong eating the weak. The weak had no right to complain if they were devoured, and he was an outsider to begin with.

Right, he was an undead now. No matter how one looked at it, these slaughtered villagers were humans. Was he, an undead, supposed to help humans of a different race?

It would be as ridiculous as a lion helping an injured antelope.

Momonga desperately searched for excuses, trying to justify his inaction to silence the unease in his heart.