I’m Sick of the Kind Protagonist, so I Might as Well Just Die - Chapter 41

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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#41
The moment Perenustus was seized by the scruff of his neck, he abandoned all resistance. The colossal hand, recognizing that he had deliberately drained the strength from his body, tightened its grip with vindictive force.
“Hey! Ren! Perenustus! Argh!”
Silpi, captured alongside me, shrieked in fragmented cries each time her body was crushed mercilessly. I too felt revulsion surge through me as my form was compressed, but I signaled Silpi with a glance to maintain composure, gritting my teeth.
‘I cannot afford to show displeasure at their attempts to provoke it.’
After enduring that sickening pressure, I was hurled into a white observation chamber—a vast expanse where hundreds of millions of micro-universes flickered within transparent glass tubes filled with cultivation fluid stretching in all directions. The landscape resembled both a sacred courtroom and a grotesquely sterile laboratory.
-Perenustus.
Layered voices crushed me beneath their sheer vocal oppression. My peers called this place the “Director’s Office,” but I had always regarded this garishly pristine space as nothing more than the control room of a canning factory.
-You, who until recently boasted ownership of the golden farm with the highest yield.
As the droning voices reverberated, the worlds I managed pressed against my body like a suffocating embrace. In that instant, silver radiance engulfed the space around me.
“Silpi….”
The Ancient Gods scoffed at the sight of Silpi, who had abandoned her very form to shield me, straining with all her might.
-Indeed. A manager so capable that even a severed head of a familiar could exert such power.
Twelve colossal forms loomed over me like experimenters peering through a microscope, casting their shadows down upon me.
-How did such a talented individual fall to this state?
“I remain unchanged, yet you have been summoning me with unusual frequency of late. Perhaps it is difficult for me to concentrate on my duties?”
I swept back my disheveled hair and answered without the slightest hesitation. The Ancient Gods laughed again at my courteous defiance.
-Then, Perenustus. Our most perfect manager. Explain why the harvest from your domain has deteriorated so.
“What do you mean? I am extracting essence according to the guidelines.”
-No. You are distracted by trivial errors and failing to fulfill your duties. Was the warning we gave you previously too lenient?
“Forgive me, but I do not understand what you are reproaching me for.”
-Do not concern yourself with maggots that have grown fat by scavenging scraps of knowledge deemed unnecessary for operations. Have you truly fallen to a level where such explicit instruction is required?
Rather than answer, I merely bowed my head deeply and held my silence.
‘To the Ancient Gods, Aurelia is not yet a threat. She is merely a blemish that caught their eye in some corner of this vast laboratory, or a useless weed tangled among crops. For now, it is best to let them continue this carelessness. I must not let them discover that Aurelia is a plague capable of destroying the entire farm.’
From my perspective, there was only one reason the Ancient Gods made such frequent summons and expressed such overt displeasure.
-You are the god of your world. Therefore, wherever your gaze falls becomes the center of that world. That is why the predetermined narrative twists and energy scatters!
My suspicion was correct. They had judged that I, who once harvested the highest concentration of energy, was now squandering operational efficiency by obsessing over that “weed.”
-What use is a farm manager who wastes time naming and observing a single maggot?
“You misunderstand. I merely took note of an interesting anomaly.”
-A misunderstanding.
“I believed I had explained sufficiently when I was summoned last time.”
I responded in a monotone voice. Yet the Ancient Gods shook their heads, distrusting the answers that flowed from me without hesitation.
Simultaneously, screens both large and small surrounding me began playing Aurelia’s deaths in unison.
A carriage accident was trivial. A grape lodged in her throat, suffocating her. Slipping on soap in the bathroom, her neck snapping. Tripping over a stone while walking, her head splitting open—an endless chain of grotesquely mundane yet brutal accidents.
-We maximized the pain threshold.
“….”
-And extended the time from injury to death as long as possible.
The mockery of beings so vast I could not even perceive their form pierced through me like a lance. I frowned, displeased by their fascinated observation of me. As expression finally crossed my previously impassive face, delight colored the Ancient Gods’ voices.
-Look. Your eyes do not waver.
“If my eyes were to waver, it would be because of you, great ones.”
—What are you saying.
“Didn’t the great ones just say so? That wherever my gaze falls becomes the center of the world? If even a mere manager’s attention can do that, what happens when all the attention and interest of the great ones focuses on a single child? Isn’t that child becoming increasingly remarkable precisely because you’re paying such attention to them?”
Perenustus openly displayed his irritation and began straightening his disheveled clothes from being dragged here.
“Why, exactly! The mystery of why this error can’t be controlled is being solved like this! Ha… I’m at a loss. Why would those who should know better do such a thing?”
At his complaint, the Ancient Gods themselves fell into confusion. To them, Aurelia was beneath consideration. They had merely viewed her as a useful stimulus to further whip and train their perfect hunting dog, Perenustus.
Even now, they remained convinced that Aurelia was less than a maggot. Yet simultaneously, Perenustus’s point struck them like a painful blunder they couldn’t deny.
—It was a good attempt. But you can’t deny that your own wavering grows greater each time that worm’s suffering increases.
“That’s precisely because that child, who was meaningless before, is becoming increasingly remarkable due to the great ones’ attention! A mere error that was nothing but dust has now been clothed in the authority of the great ones—wouldn’t it be stranger if I remained unmoved?”
—….
“That’s why I asked for permission to go and clean it up myself!”
Perenustus resubmitted the proposal he had thrown out before, only to have it cleanly rejected. He was requesting authorization for his direct intervention, arguing that Aurelia was no ordinary error.
‘Last time it was rejected without a moment’s reconsideration… but now that I’ve shifted responsibility to the Ancient Gods, the situation is different. I should press forward.’
The moment Perenustus sensed the Ancient Gods’ awkward hesitation, he drove his wedge into the gap.
“That error has already consumed over half of the narrative energy in my domain. Moreover, it’s highly concentrated data that has absorbed only comedy.”
—What? How could something so absurd happen!
“Who could possibly explain an error that defies common sense? Especially one that the great ones themselves are personally observing.”
Perenustus skillfully concealed what he had done and redirected the arrow toward the Ancient Gods, exhaling an inward sigh of relief. Then he pointed to all of Aurelia’s deaths that surrounded him.
“This is hardly an efficient method. I take great pride in the fact that the purest comedy-tragedy energy is extracted from the farm I manage, and that the total output from my farm is overwhelmingly superior. As you well know.”
—That’s precisely why the disappointment is greater.
“If you know it so well, and if you trust my abilities, then grant me permission for direct intervention.”
—There is no precedent for a manager’s direct field intervention.
“If we’re bound by precedent and lose an entire world, how will you take responsibility for that?”
—Is it our fault that an error occurred in your worldview?
“I’ll simply return those very words you spoke back to you. Since this error originated from garbage you discarded, those who dumped that refuse into my world without permission must bear the responsibility. Obviously.”
The words they had spoken to pressure Perenustus became their own snare. As the colossal beings hesitated, Perenustus continued speaking while etching every death of Aurelia into his memory.
“The most excellent young god. The most excellent manager. I will show results worthy of those evaluations. Grant me permission.”
—Tsk….
The Ancient Gods clicked their tongues. They found him infuriating, yet Perenustus remained their most reliable servant. They knew better than anyone that coaxing one Perenustus was far more effective than commanding ten obedient subordinates. With Perenustus offering to resolve the problem directly, they had no further grounds to refuse.
—…Very well. I approve your direct intervention.
“Thank you.”
Perenustus bowed deeply for the first time. Only then did the Ancient Gods realize they had never received a proper bow from him before.
—Arrogant creature.
The Ancient Gods clicked their tongues again and sent him away. Even as the overwhelmingly white space crumbled and swallowed him whole, Perenustus did not raise his bowed head.
“Hey, Ren. It’s done. Your turn now.”
“…Ha, seriously.”
Silpi, who had transformed back into a dragon’s head at some point, circled around Perenustus’s body. Perenustus slowly straightened his posture and tapped his neck lightly with his fist.
“Since I got permission for direct intervention, now lower Aurelia’s suffering level. Quickly.”
“Did I bow and get permission just to sit here adjusting numbers?”
“Huh…?”
Perenustus recalled all of Aurelia’s deaths that he had seared into his eyes. The gods hadn’t killed Aurelia painfully because they hated her. The fact that it had been nothing but a whip to train and pressure him filled Perenustus with displeasure.
“Ren, what are you trying to do?”
“What do you mean, what? The Old Gods never restricted the scope of my intervention.”
“So what!”
“I’m going into the Worlds myself.”
Silpi stared blankly at Perenustus, too drained even to muster a response.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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