Bennie Mitchell, the Attorney General of the National Guard, stood before the massive iron gate, his voice booming with authority.

"This is Bennie Mitchell, Attorney General of the National Guard. Open the door now!"

The gate didn't budge.

Boom! Bang! Bang!

Without hesitation, the guards rammed the door with a battering ram, sending splinters flying. The mansion's once-pristine entrance caved in with a thunderous crash. Bennie, a bear-like man with a mane of coarse hair and eyes sharp as steel, stormed inside, leading his men with a ferocity that struck fear into anyone in their path.

The Duchy of Crawford was in chaos, but not due to the usual criminal scuffles or merchant disputes. The security forces were swarming the city like a pack of wolves, raiding one elder's house after another. People gathered in the streets, watching with wide eyes.

"Huh? Isn't that Elder Miles' mansion?" a man asked, gawking at the scene.

"I guess that old fox also stole from the royal treasury," another replied with a snort.

"Do you think they'll actually find something?"

"Are you joking? The guards haven't missed once. Every raid turns up stolen treasures and gold coins. It's like they've been hoarding half the kingdom's wealth."

The crowd murmured in agreement.

"Oh, really? The Senate was nothing but a pack of wolves preying on the royal family and draining the national finances."

"You know what's even crazier?"

A man lowered his voice, drawing the attention of those around him. Heads leaned in, eager to catch the secret.

"What is it? Spill it already."

"The one behind this whole operation is the new Prime Minister, Abel Carriers. They say he's like a prophet or something."

"Seriously?"

"I heard he was famous even in the Empire. The Aramid Church invited him personally!"

"A man of that caliber… as our Prime Minister? Maybe the world really is changing."

"Don't be naïve. He's still part of the royal bloodline. He won't care about commoners like us."

Despite their cynicism, the people couldn't hide their delight at seeing the corrupt Senate torn apart. The once-untouchable nobles were being dragged from their gilded estates in chains. But the thrill of justice didn't completely erase the city's underlying fear.

"If this keeps up, it'll be us next," a worried man whispered to his friend.

"Yeah. You remember how many nobles have framed poor folks like us just to cover their own crimes?"

"So shut it and stay quiet. Or else we might get swept up in the purge too."

But there was no need for their paranoia. The blade of the purge was precise, cutting out only the rotting limbs of Crawford's elite.

In just one week, the Senate was a shadow of its former self—dysfunctional and disbanded. Without the corrupt elders, they couldn't even fulfill their original legislative duties, let alone plot against the crown.

Everyone linked to the embezzlement, from warehouse keepers to tax collectors, was arrested. Officials, their faces pale and drawn, flocked to Abel Carriers, clutching stacks of papers and pleading for mercy.

"Your Excellency! If you continue this purge, the State Council will be paralyzed!" one official begged, his voice trembling.

Abel sat calmly at his desk, his gaze as sharp and cold as a scalpel.

"And what? You want me to let criminals handle state affairs?"

"Of course not! But… but we need a solution. We're short on manpower!" the official stammered.

Abel's eyes darkened. Without a word, he glanced at the heap of approval documents piling up on his desk. He stood slowly, his expression like a vulture ready to pounce.

"Send them all to me," he said flatly.

The officials blinked.

"P-Pardon?"

"I'll handle the approvals myself," he said, his voice laced with iron.

"B-But, Your Excellency—"

"Do you think I lack the authority?" His sharp glare sent shivers down their spines.

"N-No, of course not!"

With no choice, the bureaucrats backed down. After all, the man before them wasn't just a prime minister—he was a monster given absolute power by the king.

The officials returned to their offices, expecting utter chaos. But to their shock, the entire government continued to function like clockwork. No delays, no confusion. Documents were being signed and approved faster than ever.

"How… how is he doing it?" they murmured in disbelief.

But no one knew the truth.

Behind the closed doors of the Prime Minister's office, the secret was comically absurd. A black flying squirrel and a white bat zipped back and forth, clutching scrolls in their tiny claws, tossing them into organized stacks with supernatural efficiency.

Meanwhile, Abel lay sprawled on the sofa, lazily munching on fresh fruit brought by the two half-demons.

"Ugh, this is killing me. I'm gonna quit. I reject this life," Abel groaned, tossing a grape into his mouth.

—You said it was fine earlier! Shuguri telepathically retorted.

"Yeah, well, I didn't know it would be this much work! You damn con artist!"

—Tch! You're the one who conned us into doing this! Peltron whined.

Abel scowled but lacked the energy to argue.

---

Despite the public spectacles of arrests and the grand purges, the fall of the Crawford establishment was inevitable. If the prime minister had been some clueless puppet, things might have turned out differently.

But Abel Carriers was far from ordinary.

His personal power, wealth, and influence were on an entirely different level. With his multi-panel groups gathering intelligence and his familiars monitoring day and night, he was always several steps ahead.

Crows eavesdropped on noblemen's whispers during the day, while bats listened to their hushed conspiracies at night.

"Struggle! Struggle! Unite!"

Outside, a strange commotion rang out.

Abel glanced out the window, only to be met with the ridiculous sight of Shuguri and Peltron. The two half-demons, red bands tied around their heads, were swinging their little claws and chanting labor union slogans.

"...What the hell?"

Abel stared, dumbfounded.

The two flailed their tiny fists, their squeaky voices shrill with indignation.

"Your Excellency, it's so noisy I can't concentrate," Vargas grumbled, massaging his temples.

Abel sighed.

"Yeah. This is getting out of hand."

He strolled over to the two half-demons, who instantly sensed his presence. Their eyes widened, but they didn't stop their protest.

-More pay for more work! Shuguri declared defiantly.

-More money…! Peltron squeaked but trailed off under Abel's piercing glare.

Abel stared at them in silence.

The two squirmed nervously, but their little feet stayed planted.

"Alright," Abel finally said, his voice dangerously calm. "What's the problem?"

-The workload is too much! We're supposed to monitor nobles, not review documents!

Shuguri whined.

-Yeah! We didn't sign up for this! Peltron added.

Abel rubbed his temples. It wasn't like they were wrong. He had been dumping ridiculous amounts of paperwork on them. A thousand parchment pages in a single day? Even for half-demons, that was borderline torture.

But he wasn't about to let them slack off.

"Think carefully, my friends." He smiled faintly, his voice dripping with false sweetness.

-What?

"Have you ever received such concentrated spiritual energy from the Duchy of Crawford before?"

The two half-demons blinked, momentarily confused.

-Well… no, but—

"Exactly." Abel's smile widened. "So, shouldn't you repay me with some hard work?"

The two stared at him, their eyes narrowing suspiciously.

-...Are you gaslighting us?

Peltron asked flatly.

Abel's eye twitched.

"Just do the damn work," he snapped, turning away.

Grumbling, the two reluctantly scurried back to their tasks.

"Idiots," Abel muttered. Then, with Vargas by his side, he stepped out onto the bustling streets.

It was time to gather some floating rumors—because in this place, even lies could contain valuable truths.