Miss Hebe Is Charging Through the Lostbelts! [30]

At the cost of only a dozen or so priests’ lives, the entire Temple of Thoth fell under Hebe’s control.

When the King of Rams learned of this, he had no objections. He even asked Hebe whether she wished to demote those priests’ families to slavery as well.

Hebe’s answer was: there was no need.

She could not even remember those people’s names, nor did she care whether they lived or died. As for the families behind them, they were even less worth her concern.

“These people are nobles. Their bloodlines have been passed down for hundreds of years or more.”

A dark-skinned young man sat on the carpet, frowning. “If you wish to do anything, they cannot be ignored.”

“You are right. Under normal circumstances, that is indeed true.” Hebe set down the papyrus in her hand. “But what if I do not need these families’ assistance?”

Those dull green eyes stared straight at the young man, seeping a chilling cruelty and certainty.

“Only when one seeks something does one have a weakness. If I seek nothing from them, then they have no value.”

The young man furrowed his brow in confusion. He placed both hands on his knees and took a deep breath.

“Then… what about me? Do I have value to you?”

“You do.” Hebe nodded with perfect seriousness. “Just as vegetables have value to farmers, river fish to fishermen, and bad jokes to you, Cyno.”

In the original simulation, the struggle over the seat of Hermanubis had come to an end after several rises and falls.

Cyno, an orphan of the military nobility adopted by the temple priests, accepted promotion through the sixfold sequence and became the last generation’s Hermanubis, lasting until disaster descended upon Memphis.

If Hebe had not appeared, he would have inherited the authority of Hermanubis two years later.

“You will become my assistant.” Hebe picked up the papyrus again, feeling the uneven patterns upon it. “In the time to come, I want you to organize everyone from the various schools whom you trust and who can obey orders.”

“This organization must be independent of the schools, but I permit you to act in Hermanubis’s name.”

“My requirements are that you closely monitor the movements of the other schools, priests, and military nobles. Beyond that, you must possess enough public trust to organize a sufficient number of people at critical moments. And when necessary, you must be able to disperse into smaller units.”

“As for this organization’s internal structure, composition, and approval procedures, I will not interfere.”

Hebe picked up the reed pen and left the mark of the scarlet ibis on the papyrus.

“Take this handwritten order. It is your operating fund for the next year. There is no need to worry about the King of Rams. He will not become an obstacle to you. If His Majesty the Red King holds anyone accountable, I alone will bear it.”

Cyno took the papyrus and gazed at the jackal’s head that symbolized Hermanubis.

“—It should have a name,” he said. “Since we are to become your staff, how should we address one another?”

After a silence that was not particularly long, he heard Hebe’s voice from ahead.

“Sanctum of Silence.”

…

After Cyno left the Temple of Thoth, the surroundings grew quiet once more. Only a cool, clear fragrance rose in thin curls from the burner.

Hebe picked up another scroll of papyrus, her fingers moving along its carved traces as she read the words recorded upon it.

The sunlight shining in through the window gradually grew thin. The objects in the room were draped in a pale white layer, and the temperature fell slightly. The girl’s fingertips were a little stiff, and the white vapor she exhaled from her mouth and nose was clearly visible.

Even the flow of time had slowed, as though she were standing in the fissures between time, space, and secrets.

Finally…

Hebe set the papyrus on the low table and sighed.

She raised her eyes and looked straight at Nitocris, who had appeared soundlessly before her.

This was a card Hebe had to keep in hand.

“You… seem to have been expecting me?”

“Was it that obvious?” Hebe smiled. “It would be a lie to say I wasn’t.”

Despite her words, her voice had no rise or fall, making Nitocris think of a marble tomb covered in white-flowered vines.

As one who could almost be placed on equal footing with Anubis, Nitocris understood in an instant what lay behind Hebe’s calm tone.

It was a heartbreaking acceptance—just how many deaths had she gone through?

Nitocris blinked, and that dense scent of death vanished once more, as though it had never appeared.

In her eyes, the girl before her, still smiling to herself, was already covered in countless dreadful cracks, like pottery on the verge of shattering yet barely holding itself together.

—The person before me is almost broken, Nitocris thought.

Propping her cheek in one hand somewhat lazily, Hebe smiled and said, “What do you think of this His Majesty Ozymandias of ours?”

Nitocris instinctively wanted to rebuke Hebe for her irreverence, for daring to speak of the pharaoh so familiarly.

Yet in the end, Nitocris said nothing.

She allowed Hebe that small offense.

And because of that, she also chose to ignore Hebe pushing her luck.

After all, in her eyes, Hebe could face even death with calm acceptance. Naturally, she would not fear Ozymandias’s glory.

Nitocris lowered her eyes, and her cool voice echoed through the temple’s inner chamber.

“His Majesty the Red King rules over the great red sea of sand and all Upper and Lower Egypt. The word great alone is not enough to describe even one ten-thousandth of his achievements.”

“Even if the Red King interprets his rule over his people through destruction?”

“That, too, is one facet of authority. If they are unwilling to submit, they may leave the land of Egypt.” Nitocris answered, “Just like the people of Thebes.”

Hebe understood.

She knew that Nitocris would be harder to persuade than Pepe.

Nitocris had long been accustomed to life and death, and so her heart was much harder than Pepe’s. Her emotions were also calmer, and difficult to stir.

“Authority…” Hebe repeated the word with interest. “What if I told you that the path His Majesty the Red King is about to walk is very far removed from authority?”

These words were treasonous to the extreme.

It could be said that with this sentence alone, even if Hebe was the Ibis King, she would still be branded a sycophant.

Yet when Nitocris heard those words, she fell silent.

This pharaoh of old slowly sat down opposite Hebe, facing her across the broad desk for a long while.

An almost imperceptible sorrow passed through those golden eyes.

Ultimately, like Pepe, she too had quite a few criticisms of Ozymandias’s behavior: artificially creating natural disasters and bringing calamity down upon his people in order to prolong himself.

No matter how she told herself that Ozymandias sacrificed his people to fight some so-called greater disaster… when she saw the number of sacrifices continue to grow, Nitocris’s heart had long since lost its peace.

That was not a proper death. It was not a death without pain or attachment. It was a purgatory that tormented the dead, squeezing the last shred of emotion from their spirit-bodies to sustain Ozymandias’s rule.

Whatever else might be said, an ascendant walking the road of ascension could not go against their own desire.

So when Hebe said those words, Nitocris remained silent.

And sometimes, silence was already enough to prove one’s stance.

This is a fan translation of 赫柏小姐正在杀出异闻带！ by 青散人 Rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!