The Foreigner on the Periphery

City Hall Plaza and its surroundings were so packed there was barely room to stand.

Because of this, Dong-cheol had to choose his spot carefully.

If he stood too close to a shop entrance or a display window, he would be chased away. On a cold day like this, a goblin standing aimlessly outside was almost certainly homeless.

But if he kept pacing the street, a tall, dim-sighted troll might kick him, sending him tumbling several meters.

Dong-cheol ultimately settled against a filthy wall plastered with half-torn flyers between two buildings. With his back pressed flat against it, he watched the procession across the road.

‘When will it end?’

He was waiting for a friend—a female goblin over twenty years his senior.

He had known her since his homeless days, and she suffered from a terminal illness. She was receiving care at a welfare facility that had passed from Changcheon’s ownership to Jenkinson, but had apparently been diagnosed as incurable without a high-ranking cleric.

When he heard the rumors about the three-eyed bishops, she was the first person Dong-cheol thought of. Because illiteracy was common among goblins, he had gladly volunteered to accompany and help his friend.

‘Come to think of it, this winter isn’t that cold.’

Dong-cheol was wearing only a thin shirt and pants. He had originally tried to go out in short sleeves, changing only because Lakefield stopped him.

‘Or is it just me?’

In contrast, most pedestrians were bundled tightly in winter clothes. His friend had been the same.

While he waited out the boredom, the sound of a news broadcast drifted over.

“According to the demographic trend forecast released by Statistics Korea, the domestic total fertility rate for the fourth quarter of this year is projected to hover around 2.5. The government views this as a highly desirable figure compared to the neighboring countries’ average of 4.2...”

Phrases that would have confused him in the past were gradually making sense to him lately.

Because of that, he noticed something strange.

‘Over two? That many?’

The government had banned the release of fertility rates by species a long time ago. The combined figure of 2.5 across all species perfectly illustrated the trap of averages.

Orcs could birth up to eight children at a time, and dwarves, who boasted a high proportion of high-income professionals like doctors, also averaged three to four children over their lifetimes.

Factoring in their demographic proportions, the birth rates of humans and trolls had to be around one.

Among them all, goblins were naturally the worst off.

Dong-cheol could guess the future. Elderly goblins like his friend were increasing. But there were almost no babies.

Eventually, goblins would vanish from this planet.

‘Is that what they call “extinction”?’

He recalled the word Lakefield had taught him. Difficult words he used to forget easily were now hard to lose once he learned them.

Meanwhile, the news ended, and a commercial followed.

A narration began over the logo of a foundation rumored to be jointly operated by dragons.

“Travis is a small planet with a population of a mere ten million. Predominantly inhabited by orcs, this world has suffered through a lengthy civil war for over ten years.”

“Most facilities, including electricity and water, have been destroyed, and it remains unclear when restoration will be possible.”

“Please take the hands of the suffering people of Travis. For 30,000 won a month, you can provide enough food to feed one orc on this planet for an entire month.”

“Your generosity is their only hope.”

The screen showed orcs disabled by civil war injuries or emaciated from malnutrition. Such scenes were rare in Korea these days.

It was then.

“Ah, fucking hell. What a load of bullshit.”

Dong-cheol naturally turned his head.

The harsh curse had come from an orc sitting at the bus stop. Shaking one leg restlessly, he glared at the electronic billboard.

“There are starving kids everywhere on Earth, yet they want us to feed those shits living in outer space... Spouting all this fucking nonsense. Ah, those brain-dead cunts.”

For a moment, the gazes of other pedestrians shifted toward him, but they quickly scattered back into the void.

The orc continued to grumble.

“And what the hell are those filthy rich dragons doing? Why are they trying to pick the pockets of random people with this shit? Ah, motherfuckers.”

Dong-cheol couldn’t take his eyes off him.

Because today, as always, he could see something no one else could.

Sss!

The red light swaying around the orc’s body cut across the air like a beam.

Flash!

It struck the distant billboard.

The goblin was seeing the man’s hatred visualized.

However, Dong-cheol didn’t worry that the orc would smash the outdoor screen like in the old days. There was no reason for him to hate a machine. Furthermore, he wasn’t really angry at the aliens on the screen, either.

In truth, he probably hated the people who made the commercial, or perhaps those who had provided a more fundamental cause—the ones who had created the circumstances that forced him to get angry just from watching an ad.

And yet, his hatred was directed at the machine right now simply because a target to vent his emotions on had appeared. The goblin remembered the word Lakefield had used: ‘refraction.’ The refraction of hatred.

It was truly bizarre. Lately, he hardly forgot anything.

Zing!

Yikes!

Following a lifelong habit, Dong-cheol quickly averted his eyes. He had stared at the orc for too long.

Zip!

He felt the red light that had been aimed at the billboard now turn toward him.

But it was very thin. From experience, this level of intensity wouldn’t lead to an actual attack. It would end with some brief irritation and anger.

As expected, the orc demanded to know why Dong-cheol was looking at him, strongly suggesting in highly vulgar terms and an agitated tone that if his eyeballs were rotting, he should swiftly extract them and wash them in clean water.

Ultimately, though, he never got up from his seat. The crimson light shining on Dong-cheol disappeared. The orc grumbled to himself and looked down at his phone.

“...Fuck!”

It seemed he had found something unsatisfactory on the internet as well. A beam of light poured from the orc’s eyes straight into the small screen.

The goblin noted that throughout the entire process, the red aura blanketing the orc’s body never faded.

Although everyone expressed it differently through their actions, there were people who constantly lived harboring that red energy.

A prime example being...

Dong-cheol’s orc friend, who was now an assemblyman.

“...Huh?!”

He had been so deep in thought that he hadn’t even noticed someone approaching.

Startled, Dong-cheol turned his head. This kind of thing hadn’t happened recently.

“Who... are you?”

His thoughts were fast, but he stuttered when he spoke. It was a language ill-suited for goblins.

“...”

Dong-cheol felt a sense of incongruity from the man’s attire. Mask-wearing was not common culture in Korea. Most people refused to wear them even when they had a cold, complaining they were stifling. Yet, the person speaking to him was covering his features with an unusually large mask.

On top of that, he wore sunglasses and a hat that covered his ears.

A single phrase flashed through Dong-cheol’s mind.

‘Bank robber?!’

But the man showed no intention of attacking.

As if to get a closer look, he pulled off his sunglasses. Sapphire eyes harboring a strange emotion were revealed.

He muttered.

“Strange. You’re definitely a goblin, right?”

Dong-cheol’s heart pounded.

His bodyguards had been withdrawn, but he still possessed the artifact Jenkinson had given him back then.

It had been given to him because a goblin seething with mana might attract too much attention, or mages might abduct him for research purposes.

‘How did he know?!’

Just as the goblin felt a terrifying sense of crisis...

The man asked carefully.

“Excuse me, I’m really sorry to intrude like this, but I couldn’t just walk past.”

And the words that followed were something Dong-cheol could never have anticipated.

“It’s a bit odd to say this... but your soul is incredibly pure.”

“...?!”

“Do you... believe in God?”

   *

A deep sigh.

Asiph-1 felt a creeping exhaustion that made his entire body creak.

He had crossed over to Earth upon receiving his creator’s summons. The reason he had originally stayed behind in Dimension #00-001 was partly for administrative purposes, but also to show the spies hiding there that a mind-control esper was operating independently of Minjun.

Now that the goal had been achieved, Minjun had called him to Earth.

‘So this is what it feels like to have your bones ache from overwork...’

Not when he was first created, not during his time existing as various fragments including the Frying Pan, and not even since his resurrection—never in his entire existence had he been as busy as he was lately.

Even the wondrous physical body his mother had given him didn’t seem capable of withstanding the excessive manifestation of his abilities.

Dragging his exhausted body, he stood before Minjun’s door.

=May I see you for a moment?=

Unusually, the reply was slightly delayed. Asiph-1 waited patiently.

Just as he began debating whether he should make his presence known physically...

‘Come in.’

When he opened the door, Minjun was sitting in a chair, his chin resting on his hand as he stared out the window. He looked deep in thought.

Asiph-1 immediately delivered his report.

“I have completed brainwashing the dragons captured on the Space Mothership.”

He still recalled how appalled he’d been upon arriving on this planet and seeing the massively expanded ‘livestock pens’ inside the Mothership.

The chill he had felt back then still seemed to squirm beneath his skin.

The quite elderly Ancient Dragons were at least physically intact and only unconscious. The younger ones, however, barely had an unbroken bone in their bodies.

Since they would surely start rebelling again once they woke from unconsciousness, Asiph-1 had begun taking control of their minds.

Brainwashing a staggering number of dragons that numbered in the thousands was no easy task. It was only because Minjun, having consumed dragon blood beforehand, recharged his power time and time again that they had barely managed to finish before the year ended.

“Since we performed the brainwashing and healing simultaneously, the dragons’ physical condition should be back to normal by now. We’ll be able to extract blood from them again in a few days.”

The priests of Elahu-Praga, who were gathering on Earth for various purposes, truly deserved to call themselves the universe’s greatest masters of Divine Power.

Some of them had been mobilized on the warship to treat the dragons. They had essentially taken on the role of veterinarians.

“Do you have any further orders?”

Silence.

Asiph-1 decided to interpret that as a negative.

With the report finished, it was now time for Asiph-1 to bring up his own business. He felt his heart pound, thinking back to the conversation he had with Dell before departing for Earth.

But instead of jumping straight to the point, he looked for a way to smoothly steer the conversation.

“What are you thinking so deeply about?”

Slowly parting his lips, Minjun spoke in an unreadable tone.

“About something someone told me.”

“What did they say?”

There were many things drifting through Minjun’s mind.

He started with what he had just recalled.

“They spoke as if to comfort me. They said, ‘You are not an omniscient, omnipotent god.’ ...Meaning there are things I inevitably have to let go of.”

“That’s a given.”

The Pope emphatically declared that the god their order worshipped was not omnipotent and omniscient.

He had even added this:

“And it’s a relief.”

“A relief?”

“I can’t speak for omniscience... but the fact that you aren’t omnipotent is a blessing to me. If you, Father, were a being free from every restriction and obstacle in the universe, your free will would have vanished as well.”

Minjun immediately understood what he meant, but he let Asiph-1 keep talking.

“Will is born from the restrictions, imperfections, and incompleteness that constitute or surround oneself. That is why we desire things. We want to create what did not exist, or change what already exists into a different state.”

In a world where everything was naturally fulfilled, people would achieve everything and hope for nothing.

“Perhaps a single omnipotent being would be enough. The world would have already changed according to their thoughts. So there would be no need for any new will to bloom. Because it’s already perfect. Because there’s no need to wish for anything new.”

Asiph-1 was talking about the paradox where being completely free from everything actually made free will impossible.

“If that omnipotent being were you, Father, I wouldn’t have even been born in the first place. Therefore, it is a relief to me.”

He chewed on his thoughts for a moment before continuing.

“No, it must be a blessing for everyone in the world. If the laws of all things moved according to your will, Father, we would be demoted from existing in fixed forms to mere bubbles boiling between reality and your dreams. And even that state wouldn’t last long. Eventually, you would reach a perfect, complete state where you wouldn’t need to change, create, or do anything anymore. That is omnipotence.”

Asiph-1 gave up on beating around the bush any further.

“And now, a massive restriction has appeared before me as well. I imagined a future where I couldn’t break through this wall. That goes against my beliefs and desires.”

“What is this wall?”

Asiph-1 looked at his creator with a mix of anticipation and fear, reverence and resistance.

The answer lay at the end of his gaze.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!