Chapter 231: Doing Good Deeds!

Powerful shouts echoed as the metallic clashing of weapons echoed in the militia camp. 

"Keep going! Are you guys warring or dancing?! I don't want a repeat of last time! Next mission, you guys better be as sharp as…the sharpest blade there is!" The commander "encouraged". 

The man was still wearing his heavy-looking chain mail. He frowned as he finally noticed the newcomer slowly approaching him. 

"A brave? Braves are to train on the other side of the Town since they can't seem to shut up." The man then promptly proceeded to ignore him. 

"I know. I'm here to join the militia." Jack smiled as he flashed a piece of paper over. It represented the Tavern Owner vouching for him. 

The man examined it before chuckling to himself: 

"Alright, you're one strange Brave! It will be the usual: Test of Character, Test of Skills, and Test of Mettle. Are you ready, private?" 

"YES, SIR!" He shouted, the commander swallowing the "Louder" he had been about to utter. 

Test of character sounded cool and heroic, right? Well, it wasn't. Sprigfield was filled with flavor villagers that would give the players random low-level quests. One had to complete such missions! 

- Save the kitty 

- Find the lost watch 

- Move some crates around 

- Babysit a cute fluffy miniature rabbit 

- Help a guy confess his love to a pretty girl 

- Help a husband stand up to his tyrannic wife 

- Help a wife stand up to her unfaithful husband 

Yep, that kind of crap. Perhaps only that one militia guy he knew, the naive one, would get excited by such tasks. He'd go: 

"Oh, but it's all worth it to see the smiles on their faces!" What a load of bullshit! 

Or 

"It's our sworn duty as militia members to protect the peace!" That's not peace that's free labor!

Oh well, it was still a requirement to join the militia. Thus the Demon King could soon be seen running around Sprigfield in order to help the people. 

But, there were a few strange things about him: 

1. He was wearing some eyeball-frying-inducing flashy orange suit. Was it made with….pumpkins?! On it, there was a message: "Servant of the People!" It served its purpose to attract attention for sure. 

"Daddy, look there! What is that?!"

"Servant of the people? This guy obviously lost a bet!" 

"No, no, this man is amazing! He helped me paint my house!"

"Wait, so he's helping people? How noble! I'll ask him help in the kitchen!" 

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The NPCs were completely shamelessly exploiting the good man. They brought problem after problem to him, not minding how he felt one bit. But, that wasn't all… 

2. He would always remain silent no matter who was talking to him. He'd simply point at the "Servant of the People" on his chest, making a "leaving it to me" pose! Then once he was done with a task, he'd give the NPCs a paper: 

— You've been helped by Jack'O of the Sprigfield Militia Corp! Have a great day ;) 

Not every NPC knew how to read, but that didn't matter much. They all quickly got a neighbor or relative to read it to them. Some even resolved to hang it on their walls proudly. 

3. He seemed to be everywhere! He was helping people all over the Town. He was so dedicated that he appeared like an orange angel from heaven! 

Heck, sometimes it was as if he was at two places at once! Of course, there was no way this was true….after all, there were dozens of them!

Jack had forcefully enlisted the help of the peeps from the Drunken Sailor as well as some ghouls. It was quite hilarious to think some of the "good guys" were in fact flesh-eating deadly ghouls. 

He had dressed them all in the same carved flashy suit! Luckily the villagers were so happy about getting help that they completely disregarded the strange points... 

Farming good deeds one by one? How about no! He didn't want to waste his time. In merely a few hours, the whole town was buzzing about the mysterious, silent orange savior. 

Back at the militia camp, the commander was still shouting: 

"C'mon, men, you can do better than that! I want true fighting spirit. I want— What in the seven hells is that thing?!" His sudden exclamation made all the militia members stop training. 

They all stared at the fashion abomination that was coming their way. At first, some believed it was a monster, only to notice the engravings. They had been so busy training that they hadn't heard the rumors yet. 

"Orange…thing, identify yourself this instant!" The commander bellowed. 

"YES, SIR! Private Jack'O reporting for duty! I'm done helping the townspeople and am ready for the next test!" He shouted back with gusto. 

"Wait…it's you?! There's no way you can be done just yet! You should help more than a few people! This isn't how we do things in—"

"Sir, feel free to ask the townspeople! They'll vouch for me!" He hurriedly replied, the commander grimacing as he actually went to check. 

At first, the commander was sure the new recruit was either trying to trick him or simply too naive. But just as he was about to begin his inquiry, he heard the exclamations. 

Everyone, absolutely everyone, was talking about the orange savior! 

"I wonder if he's single. Such a great man would make a great husband for my granddaughter!" 

"I've been asking the militia for months to help me with my problem, and he fixed it in a few hours!" 

"Hehe, if he's joining the militia, then I'm sure we'll be in good hands. Heck, he should lead them in place of that grumpy commander!" 

What the hell?! The commander stilled for a second but suddenly had a flash of insight. Those people were right near the camp. Perhaps he had only helped them? 

But as he rushed through Sprigfield, he realized that it was the same everywhere! Whenever he'd ask anyone about it, they'd proudly display their "resolved support ticket". 

They only had good things to say about him! There didn't seem to be any trace of foul play either. As he gazed in the eyes of the townfolks, he didn't detect any falsehood! 

He returned to the camp as if a ghost, dragging his feet in utter incomprehension. Was this new recruit superhuman?! Then again, one should not question good things. 

Perhaps with him, their small militia camp would rise? He looked forward to it....

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