Chapter 40: Arrangement (2)
Vroooom―――
Three trucks came to a stop in front of a neat factory.
A sign above the front gate read "Ham Sausage Factory."
As soon as the trucks stopped, the workers inside came out.
"Welcome!"
"““““Welcome!!!””””
Led by Peter, the children working at the factory bowed their heads in greeting, and at the end of the line stood Oliver, who had just stepped down from the truck.
"Yes, I’m back. You don’t have to do this, really."
Oliver’s response was indifferent.
But despite his reaction, Peter did not waver.
"No matter what, you are the master... But, who are they?"
Peter asked, glancing at the people getting off the truck that had followed behind. Initially, he didn’t seem to recognize them, but soon he realized they were the remnants of the Anthony and Dominique Families.
"Aren’t they from the Dominique and Anthony Families?"
"Uh, yes… They said through the Apothecary that they wanted to join our Family. So, I brought them. Peter, could you explain the rules here and show them where they’ll be staying?"
"..."
Peter, observing the surrendered black magicians, remained silent, too focused on studying them to answer. They all looked deflated.
"Ah, is this not okay?"
"Huh? Oh, no! It's fine, of course… But Master."
"Yes, Peter?"
"How should we treat them?"
"Treat them?"
"Yes, normally, people who join this way are treated worse."
Oliver looked at the Anthony and Dominique Families.
As soon as they felt Oliver’s gaze, they lowered their eyes. It was an awkward scene, but not that strange. After all, countless remnants and minor black magicians had been defeated by Oliver without even putting up a fight.
To them, Oliver was a figure of terror, just as Joseph, Dominique, and Anthony had been in the past.
"Is there any need to discriminate? Peter, work with the others to assess their skills and then treat them accordingly."
"Ah, understood… All of you! Follow me."
Peter called out to the uneasy remnants of the black magicians and, together with his fellow Senior Disciples, led them somewhere. They followed obediently, their spirits crushed.
"Heh… Pretty impressive."
James, who had accompanied them, said this as he got off the truck.
"Yes, what is?"
"I don’t know? What do you think? You really seem like the head of a black magician Family now, controlling everything with just a word."
It was true.
After defeating a Holy Knight on his own and becoming the head of the only major black magic organization in Wineham, the respect and loyalty of his Family members had noticeably increased.
Such was the nature of powerful strength.
But it wasn’t just that.
Oliver had also earned respect by expanding and systematizing their education hours and distributing the weekly salary, which had once been the privilege of Senior Disciples, to all disciples.
He hadn’t done it for any particular reason; it just seemed fair to him. But the results were clear.
By now, Oliver had every right to feel proud, yet he remained as indifferent as ever.
"Well… It’s all thanks to everyone working so hard."
“Haha…”
James laughed, knowing that Oliver’s words were neither mere modesty nor veiled arrogance.
Oliver was sincere.
And that made him all the more unsettling and frightening.
Even though he had built an unprecedentedly powerful organization in Wineham, Oliver seemed completely unfazed by it.
James extended his hand.
"Well, anyway. Thanks for helping today, and great job."
"You too, James."
"You can drop the ‘Mister.’ In fact, I should be the one calling you that… By the way, when can I come for lessons?"
"Whenever it's convenient… No, actually, come as soon as you can."
"Soon?"
"Yes, I’m planning to finish things up quickly."
"...?"
An enigmatic statement. James tilted his head in confusion but didn’t press further.
Oliver had said similar things before. He let it slide as usual.
After shaking hands, James got into the truck and drove off. Little did he know that Oliver wasn’t just saying this casually.
...
The addition of the Anthony and Dominique Families didn’t really change much.
Oliver continued to run the Family as he always had—waking up in the morning, cleaning, and starting black magic lessons right after breakfast.
The disciples were trained according to their levels, and to free up more of his time, Oliver rotated the Senior Disciples to help train the intermediate, junior, and temporary disciples.
So, what did he do with the extra time?
Normally, he would have secluded himself in the study to read books, but unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. Instead, he gathered the Senior Disciples for intensive lessons.
Currently, the Joseph Family, with 14 Senior Disciples after the recent restructuring, had not undergone a name change. Oliver divided these disciples into two groups for specialized training.
The first group practiced synthesizing emotions, which were used as raw materials for making Filgaret.
At first glance, it didn’t seem like much, but the synthesis process and the severe backlash from failures gave them a hard time.
"Ugh…!"
Just then, one of the Senior Disciples failed the synthesis and collapsed, groaning.
"Are you okay?"
"Ugh, yes… I’m fine, Master."
"Then stand up and try again... Black Shield."
Oliver moved his hands, blocking attacks from three directions.
He was currently training the second group, which was focused on combat.
Led by Mari, this group was more interested in the power of black magic than producing Filgaret.
Oliver sparred with them in the training hall, teaching them combat techniques and skills.
Of course, in between, he also helped the other Senior Disciples working on emotion synthesis, which made for a rather chaotic scene. But given the lack of time, it was necessary. Fortunately, they were getting the hang of it.
"Don’t let your guard down and stay focused until the end. If you relax just because you're almost done, the emotions will backlash immediately. Stay alert, even after you complete the synthesis… Hate Bullet."
The bullets of Wrath flew in seven directions, striking Mari and the other Senior Disciples in the stomach.
Thanks to Oliver adjusting the force, no one was pierced, though they clutched their bellies as if they’d been kicked hard.
"Ugh…!"
One Senior Disciple couldn’t hold back and vomited on the spot.
For some reason, everyone stopped what they were doing and silently watched, leaving only the sounds of heavy breathing and an eerie silence in the training hall.
"… What are you all doing?"
Someone spoke up.
"W-We’re just… a bit tired."
"There are recovery potions and healing ointments provided by the Apothecary over there. If you're hurt or exhausted, use them as needed."
Recovery potions and healing ointments.
Though they were mass-produced and relatively cheap, they still cost tens of thousands of randa per item.
Oliver generously supplied these items during training, a sight rare even among black magicians in Landa or the Magic Tower.
Logically, they should have been overjoyed, but the intensity of the training left them too drained to feel happy.
"... Why is everyone acting like this?"
A Senior Disciple, drenched in sweat, spoke up.
"Master, could we maybe… take a short break?"
"Why? You’re at your limit now, so this is when your skills will improve the most."
Oliver asked, his voice genuinely puzzled.
"Everyone’s just… too exhausted…"
"There are potions right there… Ah..."
Oliver finally understood the situation and spoke up.
"Do you all want to quit because it’s too hard?"
His pure question. At that, everyone shook their heads.
"N-No, Master. It's just that if we overdo it, we might get seriously injured…"
"You won’t."
"Excuse me?"
"You’re practicing with the amount of emotions I assigned, right?"
"Y-Yes, that’s correct."
"Then even if you fail, you’ll only suffer minor burns… As for Mari’s group, I’m personally supervising, so the injuries will be minimal. You’ll be fine with the potions."
His polite but firm tone carried an unintended pressure, and soon, everyone bowed their heads in silence, feeling like scolded children.
The heavy, uncomfortable silence filled the space until Oliver suddenly spoke again.
"If you really want to stop, you can."
At the unexpected remark, everyone looked up. Oliver continued.
"I have no intention of forcing you to do anything. I’m only here to help because you want to learn, and it's my job. If you don’t want to continue, you don’t have to."
"......"
"However, I’d like to ask… I don’t know your exact reasons, but didn’t you all come here because you had some reason for wanting to become black magicians? Can you afford to stop now? You won’t always have the chance to receive this kind of training."
"......"
"Do you really want to quit?"
At that, Mari, who had been drenched in sweat and collapsed on the floor, staggered to her feet, followed by the other Senior Disciples, who began applying ointments and potions before returning to their positions.
Peter’s group, which had been extracting emotions, also resumed their work, and Oliver spoke.
"Alright… Let’s start again."
"Yes, Master!!"
...
After the day's training ended...
The Senior, Intermediate, Junior, and Temporary Disciples all gathered in the newly built dining hall for a meal.
Unlike the old one, this dining hall was spacious enough for everyone to eat together, and the quality and quantity of the food were excellent, allowing everyone to eat without distinction.
Perhaps because of this, despite the grueling training, the disciples were in high spirits, and the atmosphere was noticeably more relaxed. In fact, it had even become more generous.
"Today’s training was really tough…"
"Was it only today? Yesterday and the day before were hard, too. I bet tomorrow will be just as bad."
The Senior Disciples, having endured Oliver’s harsh training, burst into laughter together.
Though the training was undeniably difficult, none of them complained.
No one found it shameful anymore to serve Oliver, who was younger than most of them.
It made sense. Their living conditions had improved significantly, and they were advancing their skills in ways that couldn’t even be compared to the past.
At this rate, it wouldn’t be a dream to become true black magicians and eventually achieve independence.
"... Do you all plan to go independent?"
One Senior Disciple suddenly asked.
"In a few more years, after training like this, I don’t think it’s a joke… Do you all plan to go independent?"
Everyone fell silent.
Though they were called disciples, in reality, they were half slaves to their masters.
So the word "independence" was both familiar and foreign to them.
In fact, most masters wouldn’t allow it, either by refusing or by not teaching their disciples enough, keeping them bound to their sides.
But at this rate, it wouldn’t be long before most of the Senior Disciples here could achieve independence.
Someone spoke.
"Well… It’s not like I haven’t thought about it, but I’ve never seriously considered it because the environment didn’t allow for it."
"But now, it’s different, isn’t it?"
It was true. Things were different now. Aside from their skills, they received a weekly salary and could save money if they wanted to.
Though it wouldn’t be enough to live in luxury, it was certainly enough to start their own Family.
But ironically, as the environment became more favorable, the disciples—Senior or otherwise—were becoming less interested in independence.
Recent experiences had taught them that black magic alone wasn’t enough to guarantee success, and they were content with their current lives.
Most importantly, they had unknowingly developed a deep sense of fear and respect for Oliver.
No one had a ready answer, and the awkward silence lingered until someone changed the subject.
"By the way, where’s Mari? Did she collapse from exhaustion after today’s harsh training?"
"No, she’s gone to bring Master his meal."