The Virus King (JP-GL) 13

13. Starving Bonds

A riot broke out.

Just those words.

It was an orchestrated inevitability.

To defeat the demons, the Dragon Knights were absolutely necessary.

They were irreplaceable. And mere villagers were replaceable.

That was the logic. And if they didn’t follow that logic, all of humanity would eventually perish. So, the upper echelons of Rank Kingdom did the right thing.

They prioritized the Dragon Knights and withheld aid from the attacked regions.

Therefore, it was inevitable that in a certain town, refugees who had abandoned their homes to survive would find themselves facing off against heavily armed soldiers.

“Those winged lizards are more important than us humans?!”

“Damn them! Those incompetent nobles!”

“Silence! Silence, I say! I’ll throw you all in jail!”

A soldier shouted, thrusting his spear forward. A man, unafraid, stepped forward.

He had already seen something far more terrifying. He had nothing left to lose.

“Go ahead, try it! But you’ll at least feed us in jail, right? —And you do have enough cells for all of us, don’t you?”

“…Gah…”

“W-we’ll cut our losses!”

“Do it, then! We’re done for anyway! We… we won’t survive the winter!”

Some individuals had tried to help. But the town itself was barely self-sufficient. When they could no longer purchase food from the surrounding villages, and when the villagers themselves became refugees, the food supply simply ran out.

For the dragons.

For the winged lizards.

So, it was inevitable that the tense standoff would escalate into a raid on the kingdom’s food stores—a riot. And it was inevitable that the kingdom’s army would crush it with force.

A violent riot was a rebellion, and rebellion was something a nation could never tolerate.

The bloody scene abruptly ended.

A crystal ball—or rather, a mass of magical energy resembling one—crumbled, leaving behind a single slip of paper.

A magically recorded image. A luxury item, as it required advanced magic that few could wield. It could only record for a short time. And it consumed a considerable amount of magic each time it was played.

But it vividly conveyed the atmosphere of the scene. I was grateful to the disinformation unit for sending it.

“…Does it pain you to watch?”

Liz asked, seeing me staring blankly at the space where the image had been projected.

“Why would it?”

“You said before… that seeing their faces… would make you feel sympathy.”

“It’s just a crystal ball.” I gave a self-deprecating laugh.

“We had things like this in my world, too.”

Newspaper photos.

Television footage.

Videos on social media.

“…I’ve seen plenty of this kind of thing.”

It was no different.

Even if it was a part of the hell I’d created.

“—But I never did anything. I didn’t even donate a single, measly coin.”

Even though I knew there were lives that could be saved with just ten yen. Knowing and doing were different.

The upper echelons of the kingdom must have known about the suffering. And yet, they did nothing.

Because what they needed were the Dragon Knights. Not the farmers who had abandoned their fields and become refugees due to starvation.

“A supplement to the footage. The disinformation unit apparently intervened in the riot. They’re not visible in the footage, of course.”

“Well, if they’d been caught in that riot…”

Liz nodded.

“Indeed. Doppelgangers aren’t a particularly strong race.”

“Physically, no. But their racial trait is the strongest.”

Twenty-eight. Even if they conscripted every person of fighting age and suitable health, that was the total number of this rare race. A race of women born with an extremely low probability, regardless of their parents’ race. A race with the ability to completely transform their appearance.

That was the doppelganger.

The core of my disinformation unit, the ‘ultimate weapon’ I’d personally requested from His Majesty. This weak race, completely undervalued in this world of swords and magic, was my most powerful weapon.

Even without them, the riot would have likely occurred. But it wouldn’t have been so swift and effective.

“…Our disinformation unit is quite capable.”

“They’re your subordinates,” Liz said with a smile.

I should be pleased with their competence. Even if it was directed at another nation. Even if it was directed at the enemy.

Even if the result of my orders was this hellish world of human suffering.

I should be pleased.

Because I had given those orders, and I bore the responsibility.

The field operative units, consisting of disinformation and assassination squads, continued their operations smoothly.

The populace, struggling with dwindling food supplies, was expertly ‘agitated.’

The disinformation unit poured oil on the fire, turning what could have been contained into a raging inferno.

While I provided the general direction, I couldn’t give detailed instructions, so they were free to improvise in the field. For example, they’d assassinated a respected knight who’d been mediating between the populace and the kingdom, making it look like he was a victim of internal power struggles within the kingdom’s army.

My disinformation unit is almost too competent.

The kingdom was understandably furious. A large portion of the populace had become rioters, and the population was rapidly dwindling. Furthermore, production had stalled due to the unrest.

Based on rough estimates, if everyone had worked together, perhaps seventy percent could have survived the winter.

—But ‘everyone’ couldn’t make the decision to abandon thirty percent.

There were also reports that they were systematically assassinating those who remained calm and those who tried to restore order.

Wow.

My assassination squad is truly ruthless.

Well, the core of my assassination squad was composed of wraiths, so they were literally without blood or tears.

Within two months of the operation’s commencement, the surrounding pastures had suffered irreparable damage, and public order had rapidly deteriorated.

The population in the operational area had decreased by seventy percent. It would likely decrease further. Administrative functions had collapsed, and the foundation of food production was gone. Hunting and gathering could only provide so much—and winter was coming.

There was no way they could feed everyone, let alone the voracious dragons.

It was only a matter of time before they made the decision to cut their losses.

“Captain! It’s no use! We can’t!”

Shouts echoed through the dragon pens of Rank Kingdom.

“Don’t give up! Keep trying to ‘call’ them!”

A knight shouted.

He was a Dragon Knight.

Trained from a young age to become the captain of the Dragon Knights, he’d worked hard and proven himself worthy of the position.

His voice had the power to inspire, to encourage his subordinates.

So, they persevered. And because of that, they continued their efforts until the situation reached a critical point.

They, the Dragon Knights, were the ones who least understood what it meant to stand before a starving dragon.

To them, dragons were mounts, docile creatures magically controlled and obedient as long as they were well-fed.

The Dragon Knights called their dragons friends. They even had a bond.

—As long as the dragons were well-fed.

“It’s no use! —Aaaaaghhhh?!”

“Damn it! Gale’s been eaten! Damn it!!”

A dragon burst through the roof of the dragon pens. Its golden scales shimmered in the sunlight.

Calling it a winged lizard was an insult.

Its long, slender neck was as supple as a whip, its eyes gleaming with an intelligence far beyond that of a lesser reptile. Its powerful wings, unscathed even after shattering the thick, sturdy roof.

The most beautiful creature in the world.

But that was only true when it wasn’t starving.

Its eyes were bloodshot, drool dripping from its mouth.

If it hadn’t been magically subjugated—or even if it had been, but properly fed—this wouldn’t have happened.

The dragon hadn’t eaten in over a month. Or rather, it hadn’t been fed.

It had simply taken the nearest ‘meat’ as a pre-flight meal. Red blood mingled with the drool dripping from its jaws.

That ‘meat’ was the Dragon Knight who had ridden it countless times, soaring through the skies. They had shared a bond.

As long as the dragon was well-fed.

The dragon spread its wings. No magic in this world could bind a starving dragon.

The small, pointy, shiny things the tiny ‘meat’ creatures were pointing at it no longer mattered. With a single beat of its wings, its massive body lifted into the air, and with another, it shot forward like a meteor, accelerating in a straight line.

And as one dragon did this, the remaining dozens followed suit. The roof shattered, leaving behind only fragments of the sturdy walls.

Their scales shimmered gold in the sunlight.

The light danced in the dust motes rising from the collapsing dragon pens, creating a beautiful, surreal scene.

“Oh…”

“The dragons…”

The former Dragon Knights murmured in shock. The captain, too, clenched his fists, trembling with rage at the loss of both his human and dragon comrades.

Bitter resentment formed into clear words.

“Damn the Virus King, Lord of Disease…!”

The dragons, deprived of their food supply, broke free from their magical bonds and returned to the wild. The Dragon Knights had effectively vanished from this world.

And to the Virus King, Lord of Disease’s list of accomplishments was added the destruction of Rank Kingdom’s elite Dragon Knight force in just two months.