"First of all, you're free to target me however you like. Curse me to my face, behind my back, or even scribble insults on my house—I won't care."
"Second, I can't stand sneaky thieves. Whoever stole something knows exactly what they did."
Elliot pointed to a large sack nearby, his sharp gaze sweeping over the crowd. No one dared meet his eyes.
Everyone stood with their heads down, like children being scolded by a teacher.
Most were probably cursing him silently.
"I'll leave this stuff by the door today. If you need anything, come and take it yourself."
"But those of you who stole from me—I expect to see the items returned at my door by tomorrow morning."
"You're allowed to use my things, but only if I've given you permission. Without it, it's theft."
"If you've already eaten or used what you took, then leave a note explaining why."
"If I don't see anything returned by morning, I'll throw the rest into the sea to feed the fish."
"Don't worry, I won't accuse the wrong person. The noses of the Tengu clan are far sharper than you think."
"Third, say whatever you want about me. Spread rumors, insult me, I don't care. But don't mess with my life.
If anyone dares to dump trash around here, I'll personally shove it down their throat."
"That's all."
With that, Elliot walked over to the fire and took down the pot of boiling water.
The people of Watatsumi Island still stood frozen in place.
No one dared to move. Heads lowered, they glanced at each other, fidgeting nervously, clearly terrified of him.
They hated Elliot, but none of them dared to oppose him openly.
So they resorted to petty, childish acts to vent their frustration—gossiping behind his back, scribbling on his house, or stealing his belongings.
All of it was meant to drive him away.
Without exception, they just wanted him gone.
But Elliot wasn't just anyone. He was Zebul's general, and the head of Inazuma's Tenryou Commission.
He couldn't go around accusing people without solid proof.
Unless he caught them in the act, he had no grounds to act against them.
If he lost his temper and started punishing the innocent, their plan would have worked.
Because if he did lash out like that, Inazuma's reputation would be ruined.
What would it say if the Tenryou Commission's commander killed or falsely accused people on a whim?
No other nation would trade with Inazuma, and no merchants would dare come near.
And if he went further and decided to silence everyone involved—that would be even worse.
That wouldn't just be a character flaw; it would be a crisis.
A divine envoy committing mass slaughter of humans? That would be met with fierce backlash.
Of course, all of this was just their wishful thinking.
Their plan depended on one thing: not getting caught.
If Elliot did catch whoever was behind it—then being killed would be well deserved.
They were the ones in the wrong to begin with.
"Go home. Why are you all still standing there?"
Seeing their hesitation, Elliot took out his tea set and gave a reminder.
This tea set was one of his most treasured possessions—he kept it in his system space and never left it outside.
Only then did the crowd slowly and cautiously disperse.
Elliot took out a large sea fish and began grilling it.
His speech had one clear purpose: to set boundaries.
He didn't want to mess with them—and they'd better not mess with him.
The daily insults and grumbling? He could laugh those off.
But the moment someone crossed a line, Elliot would respond with actions, not words.
He wasn't avoiding conflict out of fear—he just saw no need.
But if anyone went too far, killing a few of them wouldn't be a big deal.
If it weren't for his promise to Orobashi to look after the people of Watatsumi Island…
Or his concern that rebellion here might spark war…
He wouldn't have come to such a remote corner of the world.
Elliot would've much preferred staying on Yashiori Island.
This life's mission hadn't specified who he needed to work with.
So he intended to avoid too much contact with Zebul and the others.
All he had to do was take part in the Khaenri'ah War and fulfill his final duty.
The more time he spent with them, the more it would hurt in the end.
If he were to spend decades—maybe even centuries—together with Zebul and the others, then when the time came to part, Elliot feared the emotions he had buried so deeply would finally explode.
"I hope time moves faster..."
He murmured softly, sipping his tea.
Drinking tea had become part of his daily routine—a rare moment of peace.
Though the Khaenri'ah War was still centuries away, Elliot was always one to prepare for the worst.
In his eyes, the war could break out tomorrow.
So whenever he had time, he trained.
After training, he would meditate for hours, then sleep.