Chapter 82 Aura: You are a born villain!
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Although Ash initially wanted to be polite to Aura—his rather silly sister—she was so much trouble that he eventually gave up on the notion entirely.
Looking at this girl, dressed almost like an eccentric queen with her belly-baring outfit, long black silk gloves, undeniably attractive appearance, yet frustratingly willful personality, he couldn't help but think:
Why is she still as willful as a child despite her age? And this behavior is especially obvious around me.
Of course, before he could fully puzzle it out, he ended up speaking his mind rather frankly, which angered Aura to the point where she seemed ready to pick a fight. However, he raised his hand, motioning for her to hold back for a moment, and continued:
"Even if I'm talking about you, I'm really looking out for you. And can't you just act like a regular demon and go find a corner to study magic by yourself?"
Normal demons rarely felt bored; they could easily spend dozens, even hundreds of years in isolation, delving into their magic. But for Aura, this was clearly out of the question. Without a moment's thought, she denied it:
"No, I'm different. Besides... obedience magic is already flawless, and now you've even added the physical option of frontal lobe destruction. You can completely control someone without needing to cut off their head! Honestly, Ash, I have to thank you for this—you're truly a born villain!"
Discussing the physical methods of reinforcing obedience magic, Aura appeared strangely elated. She immediately slid over to sit sideways on his lap, looked up at him with excitement, and poked his cheek with her fingertip.
A lively, beautiful girl in his arms—but given her peculiar, capricious personality, and the fact he had watched her grow up—it left Ash wondering if this was something to feel happy about, or something else entirely. He tried hard to think about this, and while ignoring her interruptions, he also felt a bit disheartened by her peculiar "compliment."
Especially the way she praised him—it made him feel distinctly like a villain, though denying it outright was hard.
But in reality, those who underwent the surgery had been carefully selected; it was not used indiscriminately.
The idea of frontal lobe surgery may sound like a high-risk brain procedure from the 21st century. However, the technique was actually pioneered by a Portuguese neurologist in 1935. The entire process was straightforward and even crude, often leaving no visible scars after recovery.
The technique involved an ice pick and a hammer. After sterilization, the tool was inserted through the eye socket to penetrate the skull, allowing the destruction of the frontal lobe without removing it entirely.
This process required neither specialized surgical skills nor professional equipment. It could be performed almost anywhere and typically took around ten minutes, achieving considerable results at a low cost.
This type of frontal lobotomy made subjects extremely docile and compliant, and it was highly effective even on dangerous, violent animals. Historically, it was often used on mental patients to pacify those who were otherwise uncontrollable, although the practice was banned in the modern era.
However, the risks were substantial. Any slight mistake or unintended damage could turn the person into a lifeless shell. The so-called "ice-pick therapy," popularized by its infamous pioneer,Dr Walter Freeman, once reached an appalling mortality rate of 10%, and came with a high risk of paralysis, cognitive decline, and other severe consequences.
With his knowledge of 21st-century medicine, Ash applied a more meticulous approach, using skilled practitioners and even the kingdom's bishop—who was reluctantly forced to collaborate—to cast healing magic. This ensured a zero mortality rate for the procedure, which mainly deprived the subjects of free will while preserving their intelligence and ability to think.
Ash, however, wasn't fond of killing indiscriminately, so these surgeries were reserved for enemies—specifically, opposing empires and corrupt nobles in the kingdom whose behavior was intolerable to him.
Many nobles in medieval society were known for reprehensible acts—rape, theft, and other abuses of power were rampant. Although he couldn't control the actions of people in other lands, Ash treated the kingdom as his own realm and naturally couldn't allow such people to do as they pleased.
Since he held control over the kingdom, he effectively was the law; thus, such actions were legally acceptable, especially in this era, where kings often ruled with absolute authority. While he had the power to order executions at whim, Ash preferred a structured and orderly rule.
In a time when the moral standards of the ruling class were generally low, Ash's relative ethical principles stood out and gained him many allies.
Moreover, if nobles cooperated willingly, even if they required some form of control, he preferred not to use frontal lobe surgery on them. Instead, he would employ obedience magic to ensure their compliance. Given the strength of this magic, it was nearly impossible to escape his control once bound by it.
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The operation itself, though seemingly brutal, didn't damage the eyes or affect other bodily functions, making it ideal for enforcing obedience magic. Aura was particularly impressed with the surgical method he devised. Without his restrictions, she would likely have wanted to implement it throughout the kingdom.
Now, seeing Aura happily swinging her legs on his lap, clearly treating the procedure as a fascinating new toy, Ash placed a hand on her head, shook his head, and sighed.
"I always wanted to be seen as a decent person. Can you stop calling me a villain? Why don't you go and find something fun to do?"
"Everything else is too boring—there's no fun in it."
"...As a demon, finding life boring—is that supposed to be acceptable?"
"And why wouldn't it be?"
"Well, how about… we visit the battlefield? There are several targets ready. It might just be the right time to reap some rewards."
Ash knew that if he didn't assign Aura some kind of task, this spirited girl would keep pestering him indefinitely. So he offered a suggestion that he hoped would occupy her for a while.
Hearing his idea, Aura gave a playful sneer. "We used to talk about 'harvesting,' and now you're calling it 'reaping rewards.' Isn't that just a nicer way to put it?"
"Well, if I phrase it nicely, it makes me feel like I'm a better person."
"You... That's just hypocritical, like those nobles—honestly, it's kind of revolting," Aura said, her expression unfiltered in showing disdain.
"…Say what you like." Although being looked down on by Aura was annoying, he didn't care to argue with this spirited girl.
In truth, it wasn't the Kingdom of Ester that instigated the conflict. Rather, the surrounding nations were still battling among themselves for various reasons.
Though they technically had no obligation to involve themselves in the war, there was no rule against taking some advantages from it.
There wasn't even a need to kill. All they had to do was stay hidden at the edge of the battlefield and select an ideal target. Aura would then cast her obedience magic, a secondary, optimized spell that could make a well-suited target surrender from afar with minimal resistance.
It wasn't as though they were killing anyone or doing anything disruptive. They only targeted those who were already on the brink of death. A simple, severe injury or an otherwise fatal wound wouldn't stop her; she would bypass such obstacles with barely a glance. Ash had taught her that humans often reached the peak of their strength in the face of death, meaning those on the battlefield were at their absolute best just before they died.
And when it came to recruiting subordinates, Aura naturally wanted them in their finest state.
The state of death was hardly an obstacle for her magic. As long as a person's soul lingered on the threshold of death, she could still exert her control. It didn't matter if they'd just died, if they'd lost their head, or even if their limbs had been severed—magic could mend such injuries.
Thanks to Ash's guidance, despite her tendency toward arrogance and impatience, Aura had learned to wait and refrain from pushing too hard. Wasting a little time here and there was of no consequence; after all, they had plenty.
While some warriors might have passed their physical peak, what Aura pursued was an overall strength that would endure.
Although this approach seemed a bit like desecration, it somehow didn't feel as unethical, especially when framed as a means to ensure peace. Even if it was only a justification, it made the act seem less offensive.
After all, someone had to shoulder the burden of "necessary evil." Without an overwhelming force to deter others, there would only be more bloodshed and sacrifice. When comparing the choices—the controlled resurrection of the dying or the unchecked escalation of conflicts—one of them felt like a more appropriate path forward.
But to be honest, Ash didn't know which option was truly "right," nor did he intend to dwell on it.
He made promises to the warriors he selected from the edge of death. When he eventually controlled the world, he would grant them the means to return to their families with their minds and bodies intact, thanks to magic.
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After enduring Aura's relentless urging, Ash picked up his briefcase and allowed himself to be pulled toward the carriage waiting in the royal city. But just as he seated himself inside and Aura took her place across from him, a small figure darted down from the castle's second floor and slipped into the carriage. In an instant, she was perched on his lap, bringing with her a gentle and fragrant aroma.
Without needing to look, Ash knew who it was—by the familiar softness in his lap and the unmistakable fragrance. There was only one person who would do this: Linie.
This pink-haired demon girl, with her twin ponytails and tiny horns, had a doll-like appearance, a sweet yet impassive expression, and an air of quiet elegance that made her seem like a meticulously crafted figurine.
She was dressed in a style that brought to mind the look of a lolita, holding a book in her hands and reading it attentively even as she sat on his lap. Her slender, shapely legs were clad in black stockings—somehow, these still existed in this era, looking temptingly like the finest dark chocolate.