Steve Chapter 801: Getting Interesting (2) (Patreon)

"Are they not going to let us live in peace anymore!?"

As Fang Mo slammed the table, everyone in the izakaya immediately turned their attention to him.

"The bureaucrats in Fuyuki City are completely rotten!" Fang Mo wore a righteous, indignant expression as he ranted, seemingly to himself but loud enough for the other patrons to hear. "Those damn good-for-nothing leeches! All they do is squeeze us lowly Japanese corporate slaves dry, yet they don’t even have the guts to fully investigate these murders! How many people have died already!?"

"Huh?" Sakura looked confused, not quite understanding Fang Mo’s outburst. "Archer-sama?"

"It started with the explosion at Homurahara Academy, then several districts in the suburbs were destroyed, and recently, even innocent civilians have had their homes blown to pieces, with entire families wiped out!" Fang Mo continued without acknowledging Sakura. "Goddammit… Cults and murderers are running wild, killing us in our own homes! And the morons in the police department aren’t doing a thing about it, just covering up their incompetence with lame excuses!"

"…"

At this point, the people around him began to grow visibly upset.

Because Fang Mo was speaking the truth. Fuyuki City, a modern Japanese metropolis, had indeed become alarmingly chaotic. Many people were living in constant fear, afraid to even step outside their homes.

"They keep telling us it’s gas leaks, accidental fires… Do they really think we believe that?" Fang Mo slammed the table again, shouting, "This is outrageous! We’re the ones working the hardest, eating cheap convenience store meals, barely scraping together enough tax money, only to support a bunch of brain-dead pigs! In the end, they treat us like the lowest scum, squeezing us dry!"

"That’s… that’s right!"

Hearing this, others couldn't hold back anymore and began agreeing.

"Japan’s supposed to be a great country, right? Advanced in science and technology, with a strong economy." Fang Mo pressed on. "But as citizens of Fuyuki City, we can’t even feel safe in our own homes anymore. Doesn’t that seem wrong?"

"I work myself to death every day, yet there’s no hope in sight. And even though we’re already struggling, it’s still not enough!"

"This is supposed to be our own country, isn’t it? We, the Japanese working class, have always followed the rules, working overtime, obeying the law, never hurting anyone. Yet no one is willing to protect our safety! The Japanese elites only care about squeezing us for every last drop, laughing behind our backs as they do so!"

"You know what? The scraps the aristocrats feed to their dogs… are more luxurious than what we can afford for our parents’ birthdays!!!"

"…"

By this point, nearly everyone in the izakaya looked uneasy.

In the dim lighting, the pendant dangling from Fang Mo’s ear swayed gently, radiating a strange and murky aura, as if something was quietly laughing in the shadows.

The cold, eerie energy spread outward, like a swollen, dark mass creeping along the floor, writhing in the darkness.

Fang Mo’s words carried an indescribable weight, invading the minds of those around him like some abstract entity. It rooted deep into their souls, twisting their logic, distorting their perceptions, making them blind and foolish.

"I’ve always wondered… Is it that we Japanese aren’t working hard enough?" Fang Mo slapped the table again, roaring, "Damn it! We already have the longest working hours in the world!"

"We Japanese wage slaves cram onto packed trains every day, endure our boss’s endless insults, with no rest, no relationships, not even social lives. Sometimes, we’re even bullied by our seniors! We collapse into bed at night, only to wake up and do it all over again, bowing and scraping to countless people, humbling ourselves at every turn. Who dares say we aren’t working hard enough!?"

"…"

Everyone fell silent.

They stared at Fang Mo, their eyes filled with a mixture of complex emotions, as if thinking, "Oh my God, this guy is literally describing my life!"

"I know we Japanese often joke about being 'corporate slaves.'"

"That’s probably become a defining feature of Japan by now, hasn’t it?"

"But honestly, as a corporate slave myself, I used to dream of a girl who would save me. She didn’t need to be beautiful or exceptional, but I would’ve done everything for her. I’d work harder, pull overtime, just to make her a meal and tell her in the quiet of the night, 'Honey, I love you. Thank you for saving me.'"

"But I’m just a Japanese wage slave."

"I’m too ordinary, like a dying star in the night sky."

"Maybe the fault lies with Japan’s blinding neon lights. Everyone moves too quickly these days. Who has time to stop and look at the stars? Even calling ourselves 'corporate slaves' is just a way to comfort ourselves."

"…"

The patrons in the izakaya sat in silence.

They stared down at their drinks, gulping their beers, as if trying to drown their growing frustrations.

"The Japanese working class has to sacrifice everything—health, love, happiness—giving up all the good things in life just to keep a barely sufficient job. But what about the elites? All they have to do is mock us! Exploit us! And they rake in cash like the filthy rich!"

"Do you know how cheap a watermelon is abroad?"

"It’s just a few hundred yen! Less than what we pay for a bowl of ramen!"

"But do you know how much a watermelon costs here in Japan? It’s almost as expensive as bread during World War II, for God’s sake!!!"

As he spoke, Fang Mo somehow pulled out a watermelon and slammed it onto the table. Of course, this wasn’t just any watermelon—it was square-shaped. But no one questioned it because, in Japan, square watermelons were a real, albeit very expensive, thing.

"Do you know what the biggest difference is between humans and animals?"

"In Tokyo’s nearly 40-degree heat, even crows know to find shade and drink water to avoid heatstroke. Meanwhile, we Japanese wage slaves still go to work!"

With that, Fang Mo changed the tone of his rant.

"In the past… I used to mock those NEETs who stayed home."

"Those lazy Japanese who abandoned the spirit of Bushido, becoming weak, pitiful failures. When they encountered difficulties in school or work, they gave up and hid away, drowning in the virtual world of false salvation. I thought they were pathetic cowards!"

"But now I’ve woken up!"

"These NEETs may retreat from real-life problems, but in games, they push forward! Even in difficult games like Dark Souls, they persevere, ignoring insults and ridicule. What does that tell us?"

"It shows that the problem isn’t them!"

"These NEETs are willing to try hard when the system is fair. The real issue lies with Japan’s broken work and education systems!"

"Japan’s culture of bullying is known worldwide, damn it! In this environment, the only things Japan can produce are sashimi, perverts, and despair!"

"I had a friend who drank himself to death from the pressure. Tell me, was it alcohol or the past that killed him?"

"He was alive both in the past and while drinking, so what killed him…"

"It was the future."

With a sigh, Fang Mo gestured to a waiter, tossing him a handful of gold flakes. "Fill everyone’s drinks. It’s on me today."

"Friends, Japan is sick."

As the waiter poured drinks, Fang Mo continued, "The old world’s elites are greedily devouring our future. They burn our dignity with invisible flames and whip our bodies. Maybe we’re not as tough as the samurai, and maybe we don’t care about honor… But are we really willing to be wage slaves our entire lives? Is happiness in Japan truly such an unattainable dream?"

"Tokyo’s poor scavengers can’t afford to send their kids to school… Ah, forget that."

Fang Mo shook his head, his tone calming. "In short, Japan is deeply ill, and tragedy can no longer evoke pity."

"…Because we all feel the same pain."

"Damn it…" Someone nearby finally couldn’t hold back, slamming their own table. "You’re absolutely right, sir!"

"Yes, yes!"

Like a stone thrown into a lake, Fang Mo’s words began to stir waves, and soon others joined in. "Japan has rotted to the core! Damn it! Is this the end?"

"But what can we do?" another person asked, now dejected. "Besides drinking ourselves numb, what else can we change?"

"Friends, the power of will is limitless."

Fang Mo smiled, his earring swaying as his face seemed to blur, his voice taking on an ethereal quality as though coming from some distant place. "All I need to do is wake a few people in Fuyuki City, and then you will wake even more from their slumber."

With that, Fang Mo rose from his seat.

He walked a few steps and soon noticed an older man staring at him blankly.

The man held a test paper, likely his child’s homework. Fang Mo glanced at it and noticed it was a geography test, so he grabbed it and scribbled something down.

"Here you go."

He handed the paper back after writing a few answers.

The older man looked down at the answers. Capital of Austria? Berlin? Capital of Poland? Berlin? Capital of France… also Berlin?

"Uh…?" The man blinked in confusion. "Sir, did you make a mistake?"

"Don’t worry, you’ll understand soon enough," Fang Mo replied, patting the man firmly on the shoulder.

Then, turning to the rest of the patrons, he said, "Ladies and gentlemen, we can no longer beg for mercy from those who oppress us. Fuyuki City, and we, the Japanese working class, can only be protected by ourselves. This is no longer a pitiful protest or a mere demonstration—it’s a real war!"

Fang Mo raised his hand, clenching it into a fist. "Let’s take back our happiness!"

"Yes! Take it back!"

Someone immediately echoed his call. "You’re absolutely right!"

"Exactly! You should be the one in charge of Fuyuki City!" "Damn it, we need you as our mayor!" "Mayor? No! This man should be our Prime Minister!" "That’s right! Surely this is a god sent to save us!"

"Heh~"

Seeing the fiery passion in their eyes, Fang Mo couldn’t help but laugh.

He truly felt like he had struck gold. Things were going way better than expected.

To be honest, even Fang Mo hadn’t anticipated just how powerful the pendant Nyarlathotep gave him would be. The ability to manipulate minds, almost like Yuri’s psychic control towers, was on another level entirely. "You don’t need to worship me as a god…"

"Yes, exactly." Sakura chimed in, "Archer-sama isn’t a god. He’s just a Primor—"

"What!?" someone shouted, "A Primordial God?"

"Damn it…"

Now it was Fang Mo’s turn to get a headache.

…

Several hours later.

The speech at the izakaya had come to an end.

Fang Mo decided not to act further just yet, allowing time for everything to settle and spread. He took Sakura back to the hotel.

"Archer-sama, you were amazing!" Sakura looked at him with stars in her eyes. "You really are the hero sent by the Holy Grail to save the world. I’m so lucky to be your first servant."

"Is that so?"

Fang Mo didn’t think much of it. In his mind, he was just having some fun with them.

Still, the pendant Nyarlathotep had given him was seriously overpowered. It wasn’t just affecting individuals but seemed to work on a group level, with some form of memetic influence.

Even as a dimensional god, Fang Mo could see that after listening to him, everyone in the bar had become wrapped in some kind of indescribable energy, like a spiritual plague that would spread through contact.

He had even witnessed one man calling his friend, who then drove over to the izakaya, already enveloped in that chaotic aura.

These Outer Gods really knew how to manipulate people. But Fang Mo wondered if this influence would spread beyond Fuyuki City.

After all, he was just looking for a bit of entertainment.

He didn’t want things to get out of hand.

Rubbing his temples, Fang Mo decided not to dwell on it. After all, this was just Fuyuki City in Japan, not somewhere more important. Surely, a little fun here wouldn’t hurt, right?

Still, to ensure his plans went smoothly, Fang Mo made some preparations. For example, he summoned Aki Hayakawa and Himeno and spent the night discussing Japanese politics with them, as well as refining his future plans.

After an entire night of strategizing, Fang Mo called Sakura to wake up the next morning.

"Archer-sama?"

Sakura rubbed her eyes groggily. "What’s happening?"

"Oh, nothing much."

Fang Mo smiled, patting her head. "Freshen up and have some breakfast. Then, we’re going to Fuyuki TV Station.”