"..." Franco IV stared at the Tyrant, who had been swatted out of the world with a single slap. He had no idea what to say.
The protector of all cruel Monarchs, a god renowned for his might even among the gods, had been slapped right out of this world by someone—or something?
The shock left his mind blank for a good ten minutes before he slowly came to his senses.
Who did that hand belong to? A powerful god? Some terrifying Elder Evil? Or one of the Demon Lords that even the gods feared?
So this seemingly ordinary world is actually the domain of some great being. By entering it, I've come under that being's gaze. Its mechanisms and rules are all in that being's hands?
There's no point trying to contact the Goddess of Nobility. If even the Tyrant was slapped out, she'll meet the same fate.
Why am I so unlucky? Franco IV let out a long sigh, then noticed the farmers watching him with confusion, excitement, bewilderment, and fear.
"Was the owner of that hand the great Tyrant?"
The farmers had prayed for a tax exemption, but after seeing that hand, that miracle-like slap, awe had begun to take root in their hearts.
"No."
The one who got slapped away was the Tyrant.
Franco IV kept that correction to himself. Looking at the farmers before him, he decided to follow this world's rules to the letter.
"You all did well with the prayer. I'll exempt you from taxes. You may go."
The farmers who had been summoned began to leave.
Soon, only Franco IV and his Guards remained in front of the castle.
He exhaled, turned to his loyal Guards, and asked quietly, "How can we bring the kingdom's population to ten thousand within a month?"