#857 Heel Ambush

And thus begins the first-ever presidential battle of the Human Republic.

The President Fight.

Whoever emerges victorious will reign as the president of the Human Republic for about four years.

Why four years, you ask?

Well, it’s simply because sports events are traditionally held on a four-year cycle.

The basic rules of the President Fight are as follows:

- No life-threatening attacks allowed.

- Combat must be one-on-one.

- Participants must not lose the dignity and pride of their human race.

- The arena itself is the ring.

That’s the gist of it.

Though, honestly, not many eagerly seek the role of President of the Human Republic... the Human President. It’s more of a game of hot potato.

In fact, there seems to be an unspoken consensus: whoever genuinely desires this burdensome duty can gladly have it.

“Gubabababa! In that case, let me take it! The position of the leader of the human race, that is!!!”

What? Someone’s willingly taking on such a heavy responsibility?!

Who could this person be? When I turned to look, I was shocked.

There stood a man with an arrow pierced through his head.

Yes, through his head.

An arrow sticking out of his head?! Entering the right side and exiting the left?!

He’s laughing heartily with an arrow impaled in his skull! That’s creepy and unsettling!

Who is this middle-aged man?

“That’s... Pope Quincedo?!”

You know him, Lord Dalkish?!

“He’s the former pope of the Religious Order! During the old Human Kingdom era, he did nothing but cause trouble, wielding the name of God carelessly. He imposed a separate church tax on top of the royal taxes, built churches on people’s lands without permission, and drove the original inhabitants away!”

What a nuisance.

Come to think of it, it was the Religious Order’s people who summoned me, an otherworldly visitor.

The trouble just doesn’t end.

“While many high-ranking officials who profited from the war were captured after our defeat, the Pope at the top eluded capture... and now, he emerges of his own accord...!!!”

“The vile demons have fled, that’s why! It’s only natural for us, the Religious Order, the true rulers of the Human Kingdom, to reclaim power! Come now, my foolish flock! Rejoice in the return of your king!!!”

“What are you talking about?! During the old Human Kingdom era, you, along with the royalty, fattened your own purses. You are an object of hatred for many humans! More than anything, the spells you wielded ruined the land, bringing famine and poverty! The time when you were rampant was truly a dark age! Who would wish for your return?!”

Lord Dalkish spoke with a fierce expression, a stark contrast to his demeanor moments ago.

He must have been recalling the old era when the Religious Order acted as if they owned everything.

“Even after the war, when the Demon King’s Army occupied the land, the royalty surrendered honorably. But you fled and hid, causing havoc in villages and plotting terrorist activities... Your very existence is a nuisance! Eliminating harm to the populace is the duty of a feudal lord! Since you’ve shown yourself, we shall dispose of you here!!!”

“You lost sheep...! If you dare confront me, this is the perfect stage, right?”

“? What do you mean?”

The Pope’s appearance, clearly the villain of the piece, has caught the attention of Dalkish and other participants and spectators of the President Fight.

They watch with a mix of disgust and wariness.

And, of course, they can’t help but be fixated on the arrow still lodged in his head.

“Isn’t a contest to decide the new ruler of the Human Kingdom taking place right here?”

“Not a ruler! A representative to compile everyone’s opinions!”

“How lax...! Well then, I, Pope Quincedo, God’s proxy, will step forward to become the ruler. Now that the royal family is no more, who else but I, the head of the Religious Order, is fit for this position?”

“Cut the nonsense!”

Lord Dalkish spits out the words.

“Whoever it may be, you’re the least qualified! You’re like a symbol of the old evils of the Human Kingdom! It’s only because we promised to sever ties with the past corruption and build a new Human Kingdom that the Demon King’s Army agreed to return sovereignty!”

“But aren’t we about to decide on a new ruler right now? If I win, no one can complain about me becoming the new king...!!!”

The Pope laughs, his eyes radiating an eerie intensity.

Perhaps driven to the edge, he has lost his composure, making him capable of choosing options that would normally terrify anyone.

“A fight will decide it, right? Then my men will slaughter these presumptuous king candidates, and naturally, the throne will be mine. I shall reclaim this nation for myself, ha-ha-ha...!!!”

A murky laughter from the Pope.

Has he really timed his appearance to this very moment...?!

Despite having an arrow through his head...?!

“What foolishness!!! Someone evil like you doesn’t even have the right to participate! We’ll capture you right here and hang you!!!”

At Lord Dalkish’s command, the other armed individuals present also raise their battle cries.

Their fighting spirit is at its peak.

I can’t help but think that Lord Dalkish really does have a talent for leading people.

“Oh, you wish to fight?”

In an instant, several burly men line up in front of the Pope.

Clearly not ordinary men.

Their builds are imposing, their gazes wild, clearly not the type one can get along with.

Moreover, each of the Pope’s protectors, lined up as if guarding him, has their own bizarre and undeniable peculiarities.

For instance, the man standing next to the Pope has skin that’s bright red. Not just flushed – a vivid ruby red.

An unnatural color for human skin.

One is as round as a rubber ball, another has completely black and unusually large eyes, and yet another seems to be a metal man, his whole body glaringly shimmering like silver.

Since arriving in this otherworld, I’ve seen a variety of races, but these characteristics are unlike anything I’ve encountered before.

“Hee-hee-hee...! These folks are the very heroes summoned through the secret arts of the Religious Order...!”  

“Heroes...?!”  

“Have you forgotten so quickly amidst the brief domination of the demon race? The virtuous champions summoned by our Religious Order to battle the wicked demons. Surely, you’re not unaware of the many heroes who’ve repelled the Demon King’s invasions in the past?”  

“I’m also aware that the summoning of these heroes drained a massive amount of mana from the earth, leading to barren lands and chronic crop failures.”

I, too, was summoned to this world through that very hero summoning...

...So, those folks dressed like extras from a space movie are the ones summoned from other worlds.

 They must have come from a different place than where I was.

Otherwise, their sci-fi attire makes no sense.

“These individuals have served me loyally without fail, even as the Demon King’s Army approached. They shall vanquish you in my stead and elevate me to the throne.”  

“Ngh...!”

Hearing this, Lord Dalkish grumbles.

He’s making it clear that the pompous pope isn’t as intimidating as he seems.

However, these heroes the pope is relying on are undoubtedly tricky customers, not to be underestimated.

Heroes, as I recall, receive a special skill from the gods when summoned.

It’s these powerful skills that have made them trump cards in wars.

And the ones gathered here looked like they had stepped right out of a Sp*ce Inv*ders game, possibly possessing strange abilities beyond their skills.

Facing not one but several such unpredictable opponents is daunting.

Even for battle-hardened feudal lords, merely human, a head-on clash would bring...

...a considerable advantage in numbers, but not without significant sacrifices.

Whoever takes the lead, losing such valuable people in the dawn of a new Human Kingdom is something we must avoid.

I whisper to Lord Dalkish from behind.

“Let’s accept their participation.”  

“Lord Saint?! Are you serious?! Allowing such malevolent individuals even a one percent chance to represent us is risky...!”  

“If they join the tournament, they must fight under its rules. It’s best to restrict them this way to prevent unnecessary havoc.”  

“But what if they win? Wouldn’t making the pope or someone similar to the new king betray the trust of the demon race?”

No worries there.

I’ve already concocted a plan in my mind to ensure they don’t win the President Fight.

Plus, this plan conveniently aligns with your desire to shirk the duties of national representation.

Now, let’s begin the groundwork for this plan.

First, I need to secure the right people...

***

Through the farm, I got in touch with someone and asked them to come.

“Ritheseus at your service! I heard you summoned me, Lord Saint!!!”

Ritheseus, a young man of the human race.

He was a youth who had shown remarkable talent among those who had studied at the farm.

After graduating, he has been living a life dedicated to his hometown.

“Good to see you, Ritheseus! There’s a special task for which I need someone of your talents!”

Young and vigorous Ritheseus!

Now is the time to fully display your abilities and turn this dire moment for the new Human Kingdom into an opportunity!!!