Slave Harem Volume 5, Chapter 11

Chapter 11

　At the top of the World Tree, 'Jet Black' recalls.

　Recalling the absence of memories to recall.

　In both worlds, there are only memories of 'anger.'

　His seemingly cheerful attitude is because he is always angry.

　He is filled with anger to the extent that it is not necessary to show it in his attitude.

　There were only enemies in his life.

　Everyone who caught his eye was an enemy.

　Because violence was the only thing that connected him, 'Jet Black,' with others.

　Some may laugh and call it a common tragedy.

　Still, the birth of 'Jet Black' was accompanied by pain.

　He doesn't know his real father.

　His mother was in the business of selling herself, and she also doesn't know who 'Jet Black's' real father is.

　She was always a woman with a cheap artificial sweet scent of cosmetics, and 'Jet Black' disliked that smell.

　He also disliked her gaudy appearance.

　She looked like a poorly made artificial flower.

　'Jet Black' thinks she was a weak person.

　Because she couldn't live without someone's help.

　She relied on men to earn a living, squandered her meager earnings, and ended each day without gaining anything.

　Even as a child, he could understand that he was gradually being pushed into a corner every day.

　He only survived by slowly walking toward a dead end.

　He genuinely hated such a mother.

　He also hated himself, who was born from such a woman.

　'Jet Black' was an unwanted child.

　He was born simply because it happened, and because he couldn't be aborted.

　So, he was treated as a nuisance from an early age. His mother showed no interest in 'Jet Black.'

　For his mother, children only became a burden and never became a source of joy.

　Without any motherly instinct, she continued to despise the existence of someone who was born as a mere cohabitant.

　The reason he survived was that his mother disliked being scolded by unfamiliar strangers and pretended to act like a parent.

　It was not out of love for the child, but a self-protective action.

　However, it did not reach the level of typical childcare, and it was not much different from randomly giving food to insects in a cage that had been caught.

　He was born in a dirty area covered in mostly brown and gray where hardly anyone would approach.

　There were very few paved places, and both the front of the house and the neighborhood were mostly covered in gravel.

　The row of apartments lined up like tenements were all dilapidated, with the metal parts rusted and mostly turned reddish-brown.

　At an age when he learned to compare himself to others, he realized that he was born at the bottom.

　Garbage was scattered everywhere, and it was not uncommon to see homeless people lying on the streets drunk during the day.

　The crime was so rampant that few people living in the area had anything to hide.

　"It was a dump of this world." He remembers hearing someone say that, and he recalls thinking, "Yes, that's exactly right."

　It was a place where garbage naturally gathered. The garbage consisted of objects and people, and the commonality was that they were not needed by anyone.

　If that was all, it could have been considered just another unfortunate circumstance that could happen anywhere.

　Being poor and at the bottom, living day by day with no foreseeable future.

　His greatest misfortune was his loneliness.

　He was never given time to cultivate emotions and ended up nurturing only anger and hatred.

　He didn't make a single friend.

　The only people around him as he grew up were those who took advantage of his violence.

　Not a single person taught him kindness; they only taught him the fear of violence and the accompanying anger.

　The men who would come to his house to see his mother, changing frequently, would either look annoyed when they saw him or resort to violence.

　Whenever someone interfered with him, violence was the only response, including psychological violence.

　He had always been subjected to abuse and neglect.

　He hardly attended school, which was compulsory education.

　He lived at the bottom to the point where his obligations were unfulfilled.

　He went a few times but always caused trouble and was sent back.

　Just by approaching classmates who were happily chatting, he would be disliked, and he would get angry at the response his mother's boyfriends gave him.

　There was a significant gap between him and the other children around him, and because of that, they had nothing in common.

　He didn't know about trendy games.

　Furthermore, he couldn't even properly engage in a simple conversation like what he had for dinner yesterday and felt out of place.

　He ate things that could be categorized as food, although one would hesitate to call them that, as they were mostly leftovers.

　Moldy bread was still considered a luxury. Such an accustomed stomach developed a resistance to poison in another world.

　Because of that, he had no place among ordinary people, and except for textbooks provided at school, he had hardly any study materials, such as pencils.

　He didn't even know how to have a conversation. The people around him only made one-sided demands and scolded him without teaching him how to communicate.

　A place to go to experience misery.

　School was such a place for him.

　It felt like being burned alive.

　He felt like he was being hanged in a witch trial, with everyone throwing fire at him.

　That's why he wandered the streets alone every day.

　There was no place to go, no place to return to.

　Where should he go? Where should he go back to?

　He had no destination, not even a single friend.

　Not a day went by without some kind of trouble, and because of the reputation of his family environment, no one extended a helping hand.

　Don't get involved with that child.

　The parents and teachers of his classmates treated him like a disease.

　With such an upbringing, he would inevitably become twisted.

　He couldn't become like an ordinary person because he didn't know what was normal.

　It wasn't something he wished for himself.

　He couldn't obtain the environment that others were naturally given, yet he still wanted to engage with the world.

　Since he was born as a human, it was a natural desire.

　However, he only knew how to interact with others through violence.

　Whenever someone said something to "Jet Black," there was almost always violence involved.

　Being hit and hitting back, the pain running through his fists and his body, that was the only connection he felt with others.

　He wandered the streets, wielding violence and being subjected to violence.

　Even adults would seriously resort to violence against children, and there were many of them in that area.

　There were plenty of people of similar backgrounds, and that reassured him.

　He felt like he had found comrades.

　To convince himself that he wasn't the only one at the bottom, "Jet Black" sought out battlefields.

　Fortunately, he had talent.

　Talent for not feeling any hesitation in inflicting violence on others.

　Normally, one would hesitate, thinking that they might kill the other person or harm their own future, but "Jet Black" didn't care about either.

　There was no future to be harmed.

　The decisive factor that defines human strength is the absence of hesitation.

　The talent to abandon everything and fully immerse oneself in the violence of the moment is strength.

　It's not about physical strength or reflexes.

　Even if one has high physical abilities, they cannot fully exert their power unless they are consumed by a desire to kill.

　Being able to easily consider killing as an option was not because he came to another world and obtained cheat-like abilities, but because it was a talent he had from the beginning.

　Even among those who possess the same cheat-like abilities, the strength can vary depending on the person who uses them.

　As he grew accustomed to pain and became stronger, the source of that talent was underestimating the pain of others.

　He killed a person for the first time when he was eighteen.

　He relentlessly beat and killed one of his mother's boyfriends.

　The reason was that his mother was being subjected to violence.

　That's how it appeared on the surface, but his true feelings were different.

　He simply wanted to kill a man who had inflicted violence on both him and his mother.

　He wanted to crush the unjust man with unjust violence.

　Perhaps this was the moment when the genius of violence became a calamitous existence in another world.

「Why the hell did you have to die!? I haven't beaten you enough yet!」

　Kicking the man's corpse, "Jet Black" howled.

　The moment he realized he had beaten someone to death, a surge of even greater anger welled up within him.

　Despite the impulse still lingering, he was angry that the other person had died before he could inflict more harm.

　There was no trace of guilt. Considering the number of times he had been beaten, he even felt unsatisfied.

　His mother, whom he thought he had saved, fled. They haven't seen each other since.

　That incident determined "Jet Black's" fate.

　Inside him, there was nothing but anger and emptiness.

　He wandered the streets in search of targets to vent his anger on.

　It was revenge in the absence of a specific target. Everything was infuriating.

　He lived by pummeling anyone who made eye contact with him.

　Without hesitation, he attacked anyone, or rather, he targeted those in groups.

　Whether they were good people or villains, they were all enemies to "Jet Black" without exception.

　One day, surrounded by those who held grudges against him, "Jet Black" was cornered on the rooftop of a high-rise building.

　For humans who live through violence, the day always comes when they are subjected to even greater violence.

　Humans are not invincible. There are limits to standing alone against it.

　He tried to escape, but he realized at that moment that there was no particular reason to run away.

　After all, there was not a single person, including himself, who wished to live alone.

　His anger would never be resolved in his lifetime.

　I would continue to carry it forever.

　With that thought, anger suddenly sprouted within him.

　He was furious that there was a limit to the tyranny.

　That's why he jumped off the building.

　The final target of his revenge was himself.

　In his last moments, what he desired was the power to destroy everything he hated.

　He wanted to reduce all humans to a state where they had nothing, just like himself.

　Even life.

　And then, that pitch-black anger transcended dimensions and took form once again.

　This time, he wouldn't do things half-heartedly.

　He would exact revenge on everything thoroughly.

　However, "Jet Black" couldn't remember the source of his anger.

　What did he truly want?

　There must have been something he desperately desired in the distant past.

　Something he couldn't obtain, which led him to want to destroy everything――.

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