The Evil Scientist is Too Competent
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Chapter 157 Table of contents

The reporters who had come to Evilus Corporation again couldn’t have returned for any ordinary reason.

Even setting aside the absurdity of their lifespans measured in hundreds of thousands of years, they had clearly been shocked upon seeing me.

It wasn’t a coincidence that they were here.

I had informed the lobby in advance about the visitors, and soon enough, the two men stepped into the lab.

“—I’m Mr. Powerful.”
“…Mr. Rays.”

“I’m Eight.”

The two men bowed politely, introducing themselves with names that felt oddly formal—names that sounded less like aliases and more like titles.

After showing them to the sofa, I sat down and shrugged.

“So? What brings you here?”
“Seeing as how you’ve welcomed us, can we assume you already know everything?”
“Uh… sure, I guess.”
“—Please. Dismiss us from our duty.”
“…What?”

I tilted my head, puzzled by their words.

Before I could even ask for clarification, Lizebel, whose expression had gone rigid, tapped my shoulder.

When I turned to her, she pointed nervously toward the back of the lab, sweat forming on her brow.

The sealed experiment room—soundproof and lightproof, ensuring complete isolation.

Following her inside, I watched as she finally exhaled deeply, as if she’d been holding her breath the entire time.

“What? What is it?”
“My god… those men… they’re murderers.”
“Murderers?”

I paused to process her words.

If what she said about their lifespans was true—if those men had really lived for hundreds of thousands of years—then having killed a few people shouldn’t be surprising.

Tens of thousands of years ago, civilization as we know it didn’t even exist. It was an era of savagery, where proto-humans swung clubs and roamed the world grunting incoherently.

For people who had survived since then, committing a few murders wouldn’t be unusual. It certainly wouldn’t justify judging them by modern standards.

“Murder isn’t exactly shocking, considering they’re that old. A few kills here and there wouldn’t be out of the ordinary.”
“N-No… it’s not just a few…”
“What, dozens? Hundreds? That’d still make sense. It’s impressive they survived that long, honestly.”
“...More.”

Killing dozens or even hundreds in a lawless wilderness could be expected.

But what came out of Lizebel’s mouth wasn’t about dozens—or even hundreds.

“Ten thousand times more…”
“…Wait. Ten thousand?”
“No. Ten thousand times more.”

Tens or hundreds multiplied by ten thousand.

A hundred thousand? A million?

Even if someone killed one person per second, it would take 277 hours—about 11 days without sleep—to reach that number.

If they killed 100 people a day, it would still take 27 years of constant killing.

That’s not something a normal person could achieve—not even in a savage era.

That’s the kind of number only someone dedicated to killing, someone whose entire existence revolved around slaughter, could reach.

Not mere murderers—massacres incarnate.

“Which one?”
“…Both of them.”
“Holy—”

Both of them were massacres on a scale beyond comprehension—each with a death toll in the millions.

It briefly crossed my mind that Lizebel might be lying, but that didn’t make sense.

She had never even seen those men before.

If she were the type to lie for personal gain, she wouldn’t have endured the torment of being dragged into the fourth dimension to protect others. She would have fled.

‘What the hell is this…?’

With a grim expression, I returned to the two men.

The realization that I was standing in front of mass murderers—monsters who had slaughtered millions—made me uneasy.

But unease wasn’t fear.

It wasn’t the terror of death but the uncertainty of what unpredictable people like them might do.

Succumbing to fear here would only be a mistake.

I needed to stay rational—cold and calculated.

“Apologies for the wait. You said you had something urgent to discuss?”
“No need to apologize. We’re prepared to wait as long as necessary.”
“More importantly… you requested to be dismissed?”

Their eyes gleamed with hope at my words.

But I hesitated.

What was I supposed to say?

Should I agree to release them?

I didn’t know who they were, what they did, or why they had come to me of all people to ask for dismissal.

If they were part of a villainous organization, they’d have gone straight to the boss—not to me.

Seeing my hesitation, Mr. Powerful spoke up first.

“I understand your hesitation. But—please—we’ve carried out our duty for far too long. Even if we quit, we won’t abuse the powers we’ve been given. All we want is rest.”
“Rest…?”
“Yes. Do you know what my dream is? To take all the money I’ve saved, buy an island, and spend the rest of my life partying with women. No more missions—just freedom.”

It was a desire drenched in indulgence.

Yet, strangely, it felt almost quaint—surprisingly mundane for someone with such a bloody history.

I glanced at Mr. Rays, who nodded silently, signaling agreement.

Looking back and forth between the two, I suddenly had an idea and let out a low hum, slipping into a performance.

“Hmm… So your grand goal is to laze around on an island with women, huh?”
“I-I’m sorry. But—”
“No, that’s fine. Still… I need more than dreams to be convinced.”
“Then what…?”
“Tell me your stories. From the moment you were born to now—everything you’ve done.”

The two exchanged glances before Mr. Powerful nodded, stepping forward to speak.

“Very well. We are—”

And so began the life story of Mr. Powerful—a man who had lived for hundreds of thousands of years.

*****

All living creatures are born with a single command:
Reproduce.

The most powerful directive encoded in their genes.

But the command the man received was something far grander.
Protect humanity.

The man opened his eyes to find himself sprawled across an empty wasteland.

No parents, no friends—no other life to be seen.

Driven by that inexplicable command, he began to walk.

Fortunately, he possessed the power to follow that lofty order. A body that required neither food nor sleep.

“—You…”
“You too?”

How many years had he walked?

One day, he encountered another man.

And the moment he saw him, he knew—they were the same.

Guardians of humanity.

In other words, comrades.

“What do you think humanity is? Have you seen it?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care.”
“So what exactly are we supposed to protect?”

The first person he ever met.

Thanks to that, they quickly became close. But it didn’t last long.

Feelings like camaraderie and friendship weren’t strong enough to overpower the command they had been given.

Protect humanity.

To fulfill that cryptic mandate, they walked once more.

Decades passed.

The man encountered two more guardians and gradually came to understand what humanity was—and what the powers they’d been given truly meant.

The moment he first saw humans, however, all he felt was disappointment.

“—Oh, divine one!”
“Please protect us!”

Dozens of men knelt before him, wearing nothing but animal skins wrapped around their waists.

Hairless apes.

Creatures woefully lacking in strength, skill, or intelligence.

“…Was I really born to protect these things?”

We…
Our worth…
Is absolute trash.

In a moment of impulse, the man slaughtered the humans before him.

It defied the instincts encoded in his genes, but it was shockingly easy.

His abilities allowed it—made it inevitable.

And after killing dozens of those apes, the man came to a realization.

The genetic command to protect humanity…
Didn’t necessarily mean protecting all of humanity.

Just as pruning branches helps trees grow stronger, culling parts of humanity to strengthen the species was a permissible act.

Smiling serenely, the man began his harvest.

Slaughtering humans to ensure that their species could grow stronger and more mature…

*****

“…Well, that’s roughly how I’ve spent the last few hundred thousand years. I regret those early days, honestly. If I’d known I’d end up like this, I wouldn’t have done it.”

Mr. Powerful muttered something about immaturity, and Eight struggled to suppress the curiosity bubbling up inside him.

“Hold on—you said four of you? But I only see two here.”
“Yes. The other two didn’t come. Mr. Satan and Mr. Clear…”
“…Who?”
“Mr. Satan and Mr. Clear.”

Hearing those names, Eight froze for a moment.

He had definitely heard them before.

Not recently—but sometime after arriving in this world…

[I’m hunting the ones who killed my parents.]

“…Ah.”

Eight let out a quiet gasp as he finally remembered.

Those were the names of the people who killed the boss’s parents.

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