After the Fall of the Demon Race, Reincarnated as a Demon Girl - Chapter 38

In the early morning, the first ray of sunlight struggled like a trapped beast, barely piercing the heavy, leaden clouds before feebly spilling onto the city streets. Yet this faint, candle-flame-like light was utterly powerless to disperse the gloom lingering in the air.

On Renith Street, office workers hurried along with rushed steps, their faces etched with panic and unease. In hushed whispers, their conversations were filled with fearful speculation.

“I heard the military police clashed with the gangs last night. The gunfire went on and on, like firecrackers—it just wouldn’t stop!”

A middle-aged man lowered his voice, his eyes full of fear as if the echoes of gunshots still rang in his ears.

“That’s right,” a woman beside him chimed in, unconsciously wrapping her arms around herself as if to ward off both the morning’s bone-chilling cold and the deep-seated dread within. “I heard both sides suffered heavy casualties. The scene was horrific, with blood everywhere.”

Early riser Antina and Renith, who hadn’t slept all night, stood at the entrance of their office, quietly listening to the discussions around them.

Last night, a fierce gunfight had erupted just a few miles north of Brand University.

Rumors spread through the streets and alleys like wildfire. It was said that guards and police officers suffered countless casualties, and the military police were also hit hard.

Not only that, but other areas of Mobius City seemed to have ignited like powder kegs, with successive attacks breaking out. The entire city felt like an isolated island shrouded in dark clouds, so oppressive it was almost suffocating.

“Do you think those rumors are true?” Antina’s face grew paler. Having lived over a decade in relative stability, she had never imagined being so close to a gunfight—it was as if death itself was prowling nearby.

Renith gave a slight nod.

Last night, her sharp senses had picked up on the distant commotion. Driven by curiosity, she had gone to the residential area a few miles north of Brand University and witnessed the brutal gunfight firsthand.

The suppression force was equipped with advanced weaponry and overwhelming firepower. In contrast, the gangs seemed to be using outdated, obsolete firearms and were steadily pushed back under the intense suppression.

However, the gang members knew the terrain like the backs of their hands. Like cunning rats, they used the landscape to their advantage and swiftly launched counterattacks.

They cleverly utilized buildings, street corners, and other cover to gradually whittle down the suppression force’s strength. As time passed, the suppression force’s numbers dwindled, and the situation reached a stalemate.

Clearly realizing the turn of events, the suppression force commander made a decisive call: concentrate firepower and tear a path straight through the gang’s defenses.

In the end, the fierce battle concluded with both sides suffering devastating losses.

Renith, ever the calm observer, had watched the thrilling “spectacle” and even managed to pocket some potentially useful “goodies” from the scene.

“Of course it’s true,” Renith said softly, taking a sip of juice she’d snagged from Antina’s room. “I saw it with my own eyes. The increased guards at Brand University’s entrance, last night’s clash between the gangs and the force—it’s all just minor turbulence before the real storm hits. The true tempest is yet to come.”

Antina’s face turned even paler, like a sheet of paper. She seemed to vaguely understand but hesitated to draw conclusions too quickly. After a moment, she asked quietly, “What happens next?”

“Don’t you already know? As part of the resistance, shouldn’t you have guessed?” Renith raised an eyebrow, her gaze tinged with scrutiny.

“Riots. Cork—that’s his name, right? Didn’t you say he wants to make a name for himself?”

Antina’s heart sank.

She recalled the headline in yesterday’s newspaper: Cork was set to arrive in Mobius City as the “Governor” of this district.

Even before his arrival, he had already thrown a stone into the city’s once-calm waters. Unsurprisingly, a greater storm was about to sweep through the entire city.

“But what’s the connection? He’s just coming to Mobius City to assume his post,” said Vistah, stepping out from inside. Apparently, the room’s soundproofing was poor—even he, living in the innermost part, had overheard the conversation at the entrance.

He had caught most of the details about last night’s gunfight and understood that a fierce battle had erupted near Brand University.

As a student raised in peacetime and well-educated, Vistah had never imagined such a brutal event could occur.

He had heard of gangs before—teachers at school always warned that gangs were just shady rats to be avoided at all costs, never to be engaged with.

But he never expected these so-called “rats” to be so dangerous, daring to openly attack the police!

What puzzled him most, however, was the connection between Cork’s arrival and the crisis.

“You want to know?” Antina frowned slightly, a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. Vistah’s demeanor from yesterday flashed in her mind—she wasn’t sure if revealing this harsh truth to him was the right decision.

“Please, tell me. I’m prepared,” Vistah said firmly, his eyes showing no retreat, as if ready to face whatever came.

Antina looked at Vistah and sighed inwardly. She had underestimated this young man. He had already broken free from the shackles of conventional thought and was steadfastly seeking a new path.

“You see, Vistah, those who’ve mingled in upper society know that a significant portion of the gangs are actually controlled by the nobility. It’s only with the nobles backing them that these gangs can grow unchecked and run rampant in this city.”

Antina took a deep breath and continued slowly, “As the gangs’ influence expands, the nobles embed their own people into the bureaucratic system. This cycle repeats until there are fewer and fewer individuals with both the ability and the will to restrain the gangs.”

Vistah listened, his brow furrowed tightly, his face filled with disbelief. He had never imagined such intricate webs of interest lurking beneath the city’s seemingly ordinary surface.

“If Cork wants to achieve results and become the governor who is supported by the people of the three cities, he must firmly grasp the hearts and minds of the people of Mobis City. Currently, the city is facing three major thorny issues.”

Antina extended her hand, listing them one by one.

“First, the bureaucratic system. It’s tangled and corrupt, with widespread incompetence and embezzlement, severely hindering the city’s development and progress.”

“Second, the nobility. The nobles abuse their power and status, acting tyrannically, seizing public resources, and oppressing ordinary citizens—all without consequence.”

“Third, the gangs and displaced people. The gangs engage in drug trafficking, smuggling, gambling, and every kind of vice, while the displaced people, like rootless driftwood, pose a significant threat to public safety.”

“Of course, the bureaucratic system is too deeply entrenched to resolve easily. The nobles wield too much power and capital to handle readily. The displaced population is too large to address simply, so that will likely be set aside for now. That leaves the gangs—less powerful, fewer in number, and already thorns in the side of both bureaucrats and nobles—as the optimal target for making a name for himself.”

“By dealing with the gangs, Cork will increase his influence, allowing him to pursue more of his goals step by step: dismantling the gangs, the nobility, bureaucrats who don’t serve his interests, and eventually possibly even driving the displaced people out of Mobius City.”

“By then, those groups will undoubtedly organize and resist.”

Antina recalled the meetings she had attended. Even before Cork had done anything, countless members had attempted to rebel—a clear sign of widespread dissatisfaction with the “Chosen Ones.” What would happen once Cork arrived?

Antina didn’t dare to imagine.

“Cork has chosen the path of violent suppression—a point of no return… Yet he never seems to consider that violence only begets greater violence. Perhaps last night’s tragic bloodshed is a direct consequence of this vicious cycle.”

Listening, Vistah finally understood the complex entanglements behind it all.

Cork was determined to make a name for himself and secure the governor’s seat firmly. To do so, he first had to address Mobius City’s hidden, tricky problems—issues he had previously known nothing about.

And in Cork’s eyes, the quickest, most effective solution was violent suppression.

“Really, both sides are to blame. If Cork hadn’t struck first, the gangs wouldn’t have retaliated recklessly. If the gangs had behaved themselves and not caused trouble, Cork wouldn’t have targeted them.”

“But that’s just wishful thinking. In this city’s whirlpool of interests, conflict and confrontation are inevitable—a destined outcome in the struggle for those tempting gains.”

Renith suddenly spoke up. In the past, she had witnessed too many such tragedies. Conflict and confrontation erupted over interests, leading to death. Then, for revenge, conflict and confrontation arose again—a cycle repeating like fate.

“Is there really no way to stop all this?” Vistah’s voice held a note of frustration. He was still too young, lacking a full understanding of the terrifying power of authority and wealth, naively clinging to the hope that this could all be prevented.

“As ordinary people, what can we do in this game of power? We’re as insignificant as ants, left only to pray we aren’t swept into the raging turmoil.”

Listening to Antina’s words, Renith raised an eyebrow. Antina was being somewhat disingenuous—she had still kept the matter of the resistance hidden. It seemed she didn’t want Vistah to get involved.

Vistah fell silent. There was indeed too much he didn’t know. Before, he had lived in a utopian fantasy, seeing only the empire’s beauty.

But recent events had dragged him back into the abyss of reality, one after another.

Nothing was as beautiful as he thought. This was a cruel hell where one couldn’t survive without power, connections, or money.

Vistah’s expression wasn’t as troubled as yesterday. Instead, he sat down and began to ponder.

“What school teaches us is a mix of right and wrong. It constructs a seemingly ideal framework of knowledge but ignores the harsh realities behind it.”

Vistah finally understood completely.

“We are bound—by the empire, by faith, by knowledge, by wealth…”