Chapter 51: Question (2)
An abandoned building in W-District.
A commotion echoed through the place.
"Enemy—! Grrr… Ugh!"
The cause of the noise was none other than a group of intruders who had launched an attack in the absence of the leader, Kent. They came in large numbers, armed mostly with clubs, although some carried rusted but functional shotguns.
Due to this, the beggars of Kent’s Faction, leaderless and unorganized, couldn’t put up much of a resistance and were beaten mercilessly.
“Hah…! Idiots! Kent’s Faction, Kent’s Faction. Walking around acting all tough, but now you can't even lift a finger.”
One of the intruders, waving his shotgun, taunted.
The weapon looked like it might not even fire properly, but for the beggars, who lived at the very bottom of society, just its presence was enough to instill fear.
By now, the strong members of Kent’s Faction had all been beaten down, and only the weak—women, children, and the elderly—remained unscathed. They were huddled in a corner, clinging to each other like sheep surrounded by wolves.
"Heh heh... Cute. Don't worry, we're not gonna hurt you. The Mole will have good use for you."
"So you'd better come along quietly if you don't want a taste of something worse."
With those words, the intruders grabbed the women and children by their hair and started dragging them away.
Some brave elderly folk tried to stand in their way, but they were met with clubs in response.
"Dammit…! You’re already half-dead, what are you trying to do? Useless old fools… Tch!”
One of the elderly men, who had been spat on, collapsed after being hit. His frail body could barely withstand the attacks, leaving him unable to move.
Still, the old man, bleeding and gasping, staggered toward the intruders, trying to cling to them.
It wasn’t because he had any particular method in mind; it was merely a desperate act, something he had to do.
Panting and bloodied, the old man muttered, "Hah... Hah... Don't you know who's in charge here? If you leave now—urgh!"
One of the intruders kicked him hard.
The old man clutched his chest, his thin, emaciated body twisting in pain, making the scene all the more pitiful. Yet, the intruders showed no pity. Instead, they sneered at him and even stomped on his neck.
"Stupid old man... Do we look like fools? Of course we know who your boss is. That’s exactly why we’re here. Want to hear something even more fun?”
"Hey..."
“What does it matter now? This fight’s already over. Listen up, useless old man. Your boss is probably already dead, taken care of by our people, and from now on, all of you belong to us. You’re our property…! Got it?! Consider it a favor I’m telling you this before we bash your head in.”
With those words, the intruder who had his foot on the old man’s neck raised his wooden club, aiming it at the man’s head.
None of his comrades tried to stop him; they merely shook their heads.
"Everyone, watch closely! From now on, W-District is under the control of the Mole Faction. Anyone who resists us will end up like this! One... Two... Thre—"
—Thud!
Just as the intruder raised his club high, his head was suddenly blown off.
The damage was far worse than if he’d been shot. The sudden, unexpected event stunned not only Kent’s Faction but also the intruders.
"What, what’s going on?!"
"An ambush?"
Clearly, these intruders were nothing more than untrained thugs. They had no idea how to react to the sudden development and began to panic.
At that moment, Oliver’s summoned minions quietly approached and blew off the heads of the thugs carrying shotguns.
It was as if they had encountered ghosts. Fear and terror quickly spread among the intruders, freezing them in place.
[Creepy Scream]
Out of nowhere, a grotesque face formed from black smoke appeared.
Everyone’s eyes were drawn to it, and at that moment, the face twisted and let out a chilling scream.
Kiaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!
The ear-piercing scream shattered the air, instantly sapping the will to fight from anyone who heard it.
Faced with one incomprehensible event after another, the intruders who had been so confident just moments ago were left dumbfounded.
After all, they weren’t professional fighters. They were just thugs with weapons.
They completely lost the will to fight.
Once the situation had been brought under control, two figures appeared.
One was Oliver, holding a vial, and the other was Kent, wielding his quarterstaff.
Kent spoke.
"...Drop your weapons and kneel, all of you."
...
Clubs and a few shotguns lay piled up in one corner of the beggars' den.
The intruders, who had been so full of bravado earlier, were now bound and trembling in fear, staring at the ground. Occasionally, one of them would glance up, only to quickly look back down upon seeing the floating minions around them.
Those strange, meatball-like creatures had effortlessly blown off people's heads. It felt as though they had guns aimed at their heads at all times.
All that was left in their hearts was fear, their fighting spirit completely crushed.
Thanks to that, Kent and Oliver were able to tend to their fellow beggars with ease.
“They’re not seriously hurt, thankfully.”
The beggar with glasses checked on his comrades and reported. He wasn’t a trained doctor, but having been with the beggars for a long time, he could roughly tell whether someone had broken bones or internal injuries.
Kent nodded without much doubt.
“That’s a relief.”
“It’s not entirely good news, though. They won’t be able to fight for a while. They need to rest.”
“That’s fine. As long as no one is seriously hurt.”
Kent’s words helped to ease the nerves of the frightened beggars.
The beggar with glasses hesitated for a moment before speaking cautiously.
“But... how did that guy... I mean, how did that happen?”
The bespectacled beggar pointed at Oliver.
Kent remained silent for a while, gazing at Oliver, before finally speaking.
“...As you’ve all seen, he’s a Black Magician.”
“A Black Magician?”
“Yes... A Black Magician. He said so himself and even showed us proof. He’s definitely a Black Magician.”
The beggars understood, though the shock of it all hadn’t worn off yet.
To people like them, living at the very bottom of society, a magician, let alone a Black Magician, was a figure from another world, something they’d only heard rumors about.
“Kent... Why did you bring a Black Magician here?”
“I didn’t know at first.”
“Then why is he here?”
“I suppose... we’ll have to ask him now.”
One of the women, clutching her child, nervously asked,
“Is he here to kidnap our children?”
“I don’t think so. If he was that kind of person, would he have helped us?”
“But... how can we be sure?”
The women, especially those with children, began murmuring nervously, holding their kids even closer.
Fear reignited among the group, and they started looking at Oliver with unease.
At that moment, someone spoke.
“Hey... Where’s he going?”
Everyone turned to see Harmonica approaching Oliver alone.
The boy bowed his head and thanked Oliver, but Oliver just looked at him silently before raising his hand in acknowledgment.
It was an awkward scene, but strangely, it helped ease the tension.
Kent seized the moment and addressed the group.
“I know everyone’s feeling uneasy right now. But for the time being, leave this matter to me. Oliver may be a Black Magician, but he did help us. He even saved the children.”
Kent gestured toward the twenty or so beggar children that Harmonica had brought with him. The tiny, filthy children were gathered together, trembling with uncertainty.
"......"
"I know everyone has a lot to say, but for now, we need his help. Absolutely."
"Help...?"
"Yes. The Mole Faction has now made a direct threat against us. Can we just sit by and do nothing? We need all the help we can get… anyone have any objections?"
No one said a word.
Not long ago, they had almost been kidnapped by the Mole Faction, so no one could argue against Kent’s reasoning.
In the end, pushed by the situation and the atmosphere, everyone left the decision to Kent, and he nodded in agreement before approaching Oliver.
“Could I have a word with you?”
"Ah, yes... I’ve been waiting.”
Oliver responded immediately to Kent’s words.
Kent led Oliver away. He tried to act calm on the surface, but inside, he was a bit nervous—though not overwhelmingly so.
Unlike the others, Kent didn’t harbor baseless fear or hostility.
"Are you alright?"
Kent cautiously pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. Judging by how crumpled it was, he must have been saving it for a special moment.
“Phew... Haah—! I hope you understand. I’ve been craving a cigarette. Would you like one?”
Oliver shook his head, signaling that he was fine without.
Kent lit the cigarette, exhaling a cloud of white smoke before speaking.
“First of all, I want to thank you again. For helping me in the basement… and for helping us again here. I truly appreciate it.”
“Well, I’ve received help too, and it’s not like I helped without reason, so it’s okay.”
“I understand, I understand... Even so, thank you.”
Kent’s gratitude was sincere.
The thought of losing his comrades had filled him with fear and guilt. But when they were saved, he felt a deep sense of relief and joy...
“So... What would you like to ask?”
“…Why did you throw away your weapon in the sewers? Even if you had, it wouldn't have been much help.”
“Is that what you’re curious about?”
“That, and… why did you help me when we first met, and why do you keep protecting the people here? I’ve heard that you could have chosen a much easier path.”
Kent closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them.
“…Let me ask you the opposite. You’re a powerful Black Magician, so why did you come to a beggars’ den? From what I understand, even though you’ve been retired for a while, someone with your skills could have chosen a much more comfortable life.”
"Well... I’m trying to find something out."
“Is that so? In that case, I’ll answer the same way. I did it because I wanted to.”
"Pardon?”
“I simply did it because I wanted to...”
“Sorry, but I don’t quite understand.”
"But sometimes in life, people do things that don't make sense. There are people who, after encountering someone on the brink of death, take them in, feed them, clothe them, nurse them back to health, and comfort them. All just because they believe they saw something in them, something divine.”
"...Are you talking about the former priest?”
“Not just about him. It’s about both him and me. He took me in and cared for me without expecting anything in return.”
"And now you’ve taken over from him, following his last wish.”
“No, it wasn’t his dying wish. He did ask me to help, but he always said I could leave whenever I wanted. The fact that I stayed here and did all this... is simply because I wanted to. I mean, I was already a man who’d tried to end it all once. I didn’t have anything better to do…”
Kent chuckled softly, and Oliver, though silent, nodded in understanding.
It wasn’t the most logical explanation, but it wasn’t entirely unsatisfying either.
"Honestly, it’s not the most convincing answer, but thank you for explaining. So... was your decision to help me also because of your connection to the priest?"
“In part... But there’s another reason.”
“What’s that?”
"... This might sound strange given the current situation, but you remind me of Dave."
"Who is that?"
"My son... who died because of me."
"..."
Kent glanced at Oliver as he spoke.
“You don’t have to believe me. I just felt like sharing. Take it however you want.”
"... I understand."
An awkward silence began to settle in, but Kent, sensing the tension, spoke again.
“...Sorry to ask this, but could you help us?”
"Well... Yes."
“That’s a relief... Then, we should interrogate those guys. Can you stand behind me? Just having you there would be a great help.”
Kent gestured toward the tied-up intruders.
"... What will you ask them?"
"First, I’ll ask about the Mole’s hideout."
"I'm not sure, but won't that put them on guard?"
"Maybe. But I can’t just not ask, can I?”
"What if... I knew the location of the hideout and a way to lower their guard?"
"... That would be the best. Do you have a good plan?"
Oliver formed black magic in his hand and answered.
“Yes."