Chapter 87: Puppet (3)
Oliver was falling.
Just before hitting the ground, Oliver scanned his surroundings.
Jo, Arthur, and Sam rushed over to help him, but suddenly, the basement wall shattered, and a horde of zombies emerged, grabbing at their ankles.
Their movements were meticulously calculated.
Oliver cast a targeting spell on both his hand and the wall, stopping himself mid-fall.
Then, with his quarterstaff, he jabbed at the Puppet that was falling alongside him and managed to grab hold of it.
Thunk!
One side of Puppet's torso was blown off by a Wrath Bomb, and the creature impaled on the quarterstaff laughed as it spoke.
“This is a bit embarrassing... I thought I’d prepared something ambitious, but I didn’t expect you to counter it so easily. It’s a little humiliating.”
“Were you lying?”
“Huh? About what?”
“You said you’d let us go if we won, didn’t you?”
“Oh... right, I did say that. But you didn’t win, did you? You’re not going to say you defeated me just because you took down this body, are you?”
Puppet shook its head.
“Ah, please... don’t do that. I finally met someone interesting after a long time, so don’t act like the others. If this is all it took to beat me, it’s like saying you won because you stubbed my finger.”
Puppet spoke sincerely.
He wasn’t overly concerned about the outcome of the fight, but he also didn’t think he had lost. To him, it was more of a light-hearted approach, as if the fight hadn’t really been a fight at all.
It wasn’t arrogance—he genuinely felt this way, which made him quite a rare type. It piqued Oliver’s curiosity.
“...Why are you doing this?”
“Call it curiosity. If you want to learn about people, sometimes you need to push them into a bit of danger. At least, that’s been my experience... it’s a bit awkward, but could I ask you a favor? Could you just come down here, and we’ll talk more? I’d really like to have a proper conversation.”
Oliver looked up.
“...What’s happening up there?”
“They’re doing what problem-solvers do—fighting tooth and nail. They’re putting up a decent fight, but they’ll be subdued soon.”
Indeed, Jo, Sam, and Arthur were putting up a resistance, but the number of zombies was endless.
Given the cramped space, it seemed they’d soon be overrun.
“Are you going to kill them?”
“Hmm... not for now. Unless you want me to?”
“No, I’d prefer if you didn’t.”
Puppet made an exaggeratedly surprised face.
“Oh... is that your personality?”
“I was taught to look after my colleagues.”
“Colleagues? Heh... You talk like a ten-year-old. Who taught you that? Well, how about this? I won’t kill your companions up there. In exchange, why don’t you just come down here? Don’t worry, there aren’t any traps. I just want to talk.”
“That’s a tempting offer, but what exactly are you curious about?”
“Oh, I’ll answer that once you come down.”
Oliver thought for a second, then nodded.
He released the targeting spell and dropped down.
Despite being in a basement, the fall was quite a distance, but thankfully, the impact was minimal when he landed.
Partly because of the Black Suit, but mostly due to a cushion below him.
Something soft and squishy.
It was too dark to see clearly, but Oliver burned a small amount of emotions to light up his surroundings.
Beneath his feet lay severely decomposed chunks of flesh.
“...”
“Looks like you’ve got a strong stomach. Collin and David both threw up as soon as they saw it. Especially Collin, even though he belonged to the Mjölnir Sect, he cried like a baby while vomiting. Heh.”
Oliver neither cried nor vomited, but he could somewhat understand their reaction.
These flesh chunks weren’t just rotting—they were something far worse, something indescribably grotesque.
How could one describe it? It looked like a person had been mixed up like dough.
The faces twisted and blended together, their agony and despair etched into them.
As Oliver observed the decomposed flesh, he noticed something interesting on the wall.
A symbol. He had seen something similar before.
It was at Joseph’s secret altar.
“A circle. Two crescent moons, an X-shaped mark, a candlestick, and a cross... Is this a place where demons are worshiped?”
“You’re wrong. But half right.”
“These chunks of flesh... are they your handiwork?”
“Hmm... no, as shameless as I may be, I’m not one to steal credit as a scholar. These are the original owners’ work.”
The original owners?
“You mean the wizards?”
“Bingo. You’re pretty quick, aren’t you? Though, you sure are slow to speak.”
Oliver accepted Puppet’s words without much doubt.
He seemed sincere, and Oliver had a reasonable idea of why.
“...Do wizards also make deals with demons?”
“Of course. They research them and sometimes make deals. Demons are terrifying beings that seek to corrupt and destroy the human world, but at the same time, they possess wisdom beyond human comprehension. They can be quite useful.”
Oliver wasn’t particularly surprised.
It seemed a bit discriminatory to think only black magicians could use demons.
Wizards, too, could use demons if they needed to.
‘Though I don’t know how.’
Oliver nodded as if he understood, and Puppet, seeing this, laughed from below the quarterstaff.
“Heh... you’re an interesting one. Most people refuse to believe that wizards are involved with demons, even black magicians.”
“Is that so?”
“Of course. That’s why common sense is so frightening. It blocks free thinking and reasonable assumptions. After all, magic and black magic are essentially the same at their core.”
Oliver looked again at the flesh and the numerous symbols on the wall.
He couldn’t quite grasp what kind of experiment had been conducted here.
It seemed to be related to living beings, though.
When he asked about it, Puppet replied.
“Well, I could tell you, but not here. Could you come over to where I am? I’d like to talk face-to-face.”
Without hesitation, Oliver followed Puppet’s instructions, leaving the room and walking down the corridor.
As Oliver focused his senses and scanned his surroundings, he found nothing.
Just like when he first entered the basement and met Puppet, he couldn’t detect anything.
“There’s nothing here?”
“I have a deep affection for my lab, so I’ve placed some protective spells around. Just a bit of security.”
“Is this place a lab too?”
“Most of the basements in F-District are labs. Mostly for illegal experiments. I always find it amusing—whether you’re a commoner or a noble, everyone finds the land beneath Landa useful. For commoners, it’s a refuge; for nobles, it’s a place to hide their dirty secrets.”
Oliver listened quietly.
Puppet spoke like someone who knew a great deal.
Considering he had lived for so long, that made sense.
“...May I ask what you’re doing here?”
Oliver asked as they passed by another lab.
Inside, numerous corpses were visible.
Not just ordinary corpses, but ones showing signs of surgery. Some bodies were intricately intertwined with others, while others were mashed together like dough.
Just like the first place he fell into.
The difference here was that the bodies looked more human.
“Of course, I’m conducting experiments.”
“Experiments?”
“Yes. What else would a scholar like me be doing here?”
A scholar... it didn’t seem inaccurate.
A scholar is someone who excels in or studies a particular field of knowledge.
Wizards and black magicians could both be considered scholars in a broad sense.
“Although people like to call me a high-risk criminal, an underworld big shot, or a great black magician, that’s all a huge misunderstanding. I’m simply pursuing research. It just so happens that I’ve caused a bit of commotion in the process. It’s a bit unfair.”
He was sincere.
Puppet didn’t seem to care much about his notorious reputation.
That’s why he didn’t fight with his life on the line.
At the same time, however, he showed immense obsession with his research.
Oliver couldn’t help but wonder what exactly that research was.
“...What is your research?”
“Heh... well, it wouldn’t be fun if I told you right away. Let me ask you instead. Why are you working as a fixer? From what I see, you don’t seem like the type who’d use crude black magic just to make easy money.”
Oliver paused to think. Why was he working as a fixer?
As he thought about it, the answer seemed quite complicated.
It all started with the advice from Holy Knight Joanna, which led him to venture into the outside world. After that, he met Kent and decided to become a fixer.
It was a way to work independently, without being affiliated with any organization, allowing him to make use of the Black Market.
He briefly explained this to Puppet, who then asked with a puzzled look.
“Why don’t you want to join an organization? It would be more beneficial for you to be part of one if you’re using the Black Market.”
“Well... if I join, there will be times when I’m forced to do things I don’t want to.”
Oliver recalled the puppeteer Glyp, who tried to hand over a beggar child and a woman to the Black Hand. Even now, the thought of that method bothered him.
“Or, I guess I could take over some weak family and have my underlings do all the work while I enjoy the benefits.”
“Well... that’s not quite my style either.”
“...What’s wrong with that?”
“I’ve been in a similar situation before. My colleagues were doing all the work for me, but as time passed, I realized that they were just going through the motions, and I was the only one truly pursuing my goals.”
“That sounds like a good deal.”
“It was convenient, but... well, something just didn’t feel right. They all had their own beautiful light, but it gradually faded away.”
“Light...?”
“Yes, light. Don’t you know about it? You’re a black magician, right? Some people have this beautiful, radiant light inside them... I left the organization and became a fixer to explore that light in people. Looking back now, leaving was probably the right choice.”
Oliver spoke sincerely.
Though he hadn’t discovered much about the beautiful light since leaving the organization, he had enjoyed the journey.
He had met Kent and many other people along the way.
In the process, he had learned a lot about the world. Not everything, of course, but enough to grasp a few things.
Like brokers, fixers, the underworld, retired soldiers...
Even the young boy working odd jobs at the inn, who had mustered the courage to learn how to read and write.
Those were all valuable experiences.
Puppet seemed intrigued by Oliver’s words and asked curiously.
“I’m not sure I fully understand... what exactly is this beautiful light you’re talking about?”
It was the first time someone had asked him that question.
Oliver didn’t know how to answer.
How could he describe the beautiful light?
“The beautiful light... is just a beautiful light.”
Even as he said it, he wasn’t entirely satisfied with the answer, but that was all he had.
There was a time when he could’ve asked Joanna for an answer, but unfortunately, he never got the chance.
Their conversation had drifted off-topic.
What did she say back then? Ah, yes—Joanna had told him that he was broken.
Suddenly, Oliver wondered what she was doing now.
The last he heard, she had safely returned to the Celland Branch of the Pater Church, thanks to a negotiation with the apothecary.
While Oliver was lost in thought, Puppet spoke up.
“You’re like a moth.”
“Pardon?”
“You’re like a moth that flies towards the light without even knowing why. It’s just instinct... But I don’t dislike that attitude. It’s a quality a scholar should have.”
“That’s a relief. So, can you tell me now, Puppet? What are you researching here?”
Oliver hadn’t expected a straight answer, but to his surprise, Puppet responded more candidly than expected.
“...I’m researching how to create humans.”
“Humans?”
“Yes... more precisely, how to resurrect them. But after researching for a while, I realized that creating and resurrecting are essentially the same thing. Neither belongs in the realm of humans.”
Oliver, intrigued, asked further.
“Not in the realm of humans?”
“Yes. Ah, turn left here... According to my personal research, humans can mimic the outer shell, but as for the inside... well, the priests’ nonsense about the soul belonging to the domain of gods turns out to be somewhat true.”
Oliver followed Puppet’s directions and turned left.
At the end of the corridor, there was a door. The scene reminded Oliver of the time he had gone with Joseph to the secret altar in X-District.
“Thank you for the explanation. But it feels strange to ask this after you’ve answered my question—why are you being so forthcoming?”
“I guess it’s a matter of etiquette. When you’ve lived for hundreds of years, life gets incredibly boring. So, when I meet a young person who brings even a little amusement, I want to treat them well.”
Puppet paused for a moment.
“...But at the same time, I need to confirm something.”
“Yes, what is it?”
Instead of answering, Puppet suddenly went limp, like a marionette with its strings cut.
Without being startled, Oliver opened the door, revealing a man sitting inside.
He was slouched in a chair but slowly raised his head and spoke.
“Should I hand you over, or should I use you?”
With those words, black flames ignited throughout the room.