Damn, I recarneted As A Judge in Fantasy World-Chapter 273: The Winds of Purge

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

Boom! Bang! Bang!

The heavy thud of a battering ram echoed through the once-pristine streets of the Duchy of Crawford. The mansion’s ornate doors buckled under the force, splinters flying with each strike. All across the duchy, similar scenes were unfolding. A bear-like man, his broad shoulders and booming voice unmistakable, led the security forces with relentless vigor, his presence making the once-untouchable nobles cower.

Surprisingly, the targets of these raids were none other than the mansions of the Senate’s elders.

"Huh? Isn’t that Elder Miles’ estate?" a merchant gawked, pointing at the lavish residence surrounded by guards.

"I heard he was part of the royal treasure theft!" another man exclaimed.

"I’m not sure yet, but the guards stormed right in."

"They say the National Guard’s accuracy is frighteningly high these days. Wherever they go, they unearth stolen treasures and hoards of gold coins," a woman added in a hushed voice.

The crowd murmured in disbelief, their eyes wide with a mixture of awe and morbid fascination.

"Can you believe it? Those elders were nothing but parasites feasting on the kingdom’s wealth."

"You know what’s even more surprising?"

A man lowered his voice, prompting those nearby to lean in eagerly. Whispers were currency in times of chaos.

"The one who ordered this purge is none other than the new Prime Minister, Abel Carriers. They say he’s some kind of prophet from the Empire."

"Really? Even the Aramid Church invited him once!"

"Ha! A prophet turned prime minister, sweeping away corruption? Maybe the world is changing after all."

"Don’t be foolish," a gruff voice interrupted. "He’s still royalty. He’ll never bother with us commoners."

Despite their cynicism, the people couldn’t help but revel in the downfall of the Senate. The long-standing institution was crumbling before their eyes. For once, justice seemed swift and unforgiving.

Still, wariness lingered.

"If this continues, the blade might swing our way too," one man muttered anxiously.

"Yeah... how many nobles have gotten away with pinning their crimes on people like us?"

"Just keep your head down and stay quiet."

The people knew better than to cheer too loudly. The winds of justice often carried sparks that could ignite innocent homes.

But, strangely enough, the purge was surgical. Only the rotten branches of Crawford were being lopped off. The rest remained untouched.

Within a week, the Senate was rendered useless. Stripped of power and influence, the once-mighty legislators became irrelevant.

Everyone involved in the embezzlement—from warehouse keepers to tax collectors—was rounded up and shackled.

Panicked officials rushed to Abel Carriers, their faces pale and drawn.

"Your Excellency! If this continues, the State Council will be paralyzed!"

Abel, reclining in his chair, didn’t even spare them a glance.

"So? Should I allow criminals to keep working?" His voice was flat, bored even.

"Of course not, but... we need a solution! The administration is critically understaffed!"

Their appeals fell on deaf ears. Abel merely glanced around the room with an eerie calm. His eyes, dark and unreadable, scanned their anxious faces.

"But you know," he said slowly, "embezzlers never did any real work. They only swung their power around."

"Still, someone needs to authorize payments and sign documents."

"Then send them all to me. I’ll handle them."

The bureaucrats gawked.

"A-All of them?" one stammered.

"Why? Do you think I lack the authority?" His sharp gaze pinned the man in place.

"N-No, of course not," the official stuttered, backing away.

The bureaucrats had no choice but to retreat. After all, Abel Carriers had been granted absolute authority by the king. His word was law.

And strangely enough, despite their predictions of governmental collapse, everything continued running smoothly.

The officials soon realized why.

Behind closed doors, the real reason for the smooth governance was revealed.

Inside the Prime Minister’s office, two creatures flitted about—one a sleek black flying squirrel, the other a fluttering white bat. The two familiars clutched documents in their tiny claws, zipping back and forth with supernatural speed.

Meanwhile, Abel sprawled lazily on a velvet sofa, plucking grapes from a bowl and tossing them into his mouth. The entire administrative process was being managed by two tireless, otherworldly creatures.

"Hey, this won’t work," Abel groaned, tossing a grape stem aside. "At this rate, I’ll be buried in paperwork. I’m rejecting this one."

—You said it was fine earlier! the squirrel protested telepathically, its voice shrill.

"Yeah, before I realized how much it would cost. Packu."

—Ugh! You—!

---

Despite the grandiose purges and public performances, the fall of the Crawford establishment was inevitable.

If the new prime minister had been some naïve, inexperienced figurehead, the system might have weathered the storm.

But Abel Carriers was on a different level.

He wielded transcendent influence—the wealth and power of a multi-dimensional manipulator. With supernatural abilities, personal might, and resources beyond imagination, he was no ordinary prime minister.

Crows brought him whispers from the day, and bats carried secrets from the night.

And yet, for all his otherworldly cunning, there were some things even he didn’t expect.

Through the open window, Abel caught sight of a bizarre scene.

"Struggle! Struggle! Unite! Struggle!"

A chorus of tiny voices rang out. He peered outside and blinked. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

There, wearing red headbands, were Shugle and Peltron—his two half-horse familiars—marching in circles, shaking their hooves in the air.

It was a parody of a labor strike.

"No way... where did you even get that idea?" Abel muttered, bewildered.

The two creatures, who had never once watched television or read a pamphlet, were somehow imitating a modern-day protest. The absurdity of it left him momentarily stunned.

"Your Excellency, they’re making such a racket I can’t concentrate," Vargas, Abel’s ever-serious aide, muttered with a scowl.

The man was hunched over a table, poring over specimens he had collected from the duchy, searching for viable fuel sources. His meticulous work was constantly interrupted by the discordant chanting.

Abel sighed and walked over to the two half-horses.

The familiars, sensing his approach, blinked stupidly. Their telepathic complaints came in a frantic rush.

—The workload is too much! It’s already hard monitoring nobles, and now we have to review documents too!

—Me too! I can’t even search for the fuel Vargas wants because of this stupid paperwork!

Abel stared at them blankly.

The real reason for their little protest became clear—it wasn’t about labor rights. They simply hated wrestling with bureaucratic reports.

"Bunch of slackers," Abel muttered.

Still, he didn’t scold them. Even if he could force them into submission, perfect obedience couldn’t be won by fear alone. He needed their loyalty, not their resentment.

"Fine," he finally said. "I’ll hire some bureaucrats. But you’re still on noble surveillance. No slacking."

—Hurray!

The two half-demons nickered happily, galloping away with ridiculous enthusiasm.

Vargas, watching from his desk, exhaled sharply.

"Finally. Now I can work in peace."

Abel sank back into his chair, rubbing his temples.

The Senate was crippled, the duchy purged of corruption, and now even his half-horse familiars were unionizing.

"Hell of a prime minister I turned out to be," he muttered with a tired smirk.

**

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