Chapter 189: Illegal Fighting Match (2)
"It's a pleasure to meet you like this."
"I'm glad too! …You know how they say the world is wide, but it feels small? I finally get what they mean!"
Oliver and the chubby black magician moved to a quieter corner to exchange greetings.
The man had lost some weight since they last met, but judging by his slightly weakened life force, it seemed the weight loss wasn't due to exercise, but rather from hardship.
Nevertheless, despite that, he was genuinely happy to see Oliver.
"I'm so glad to see a familiar face here."
Sincerity. Oliver responded as well.
"Yes, it's nice to see you too. Not long ago, when the Grey Market opened, I went to visit you again, but you weren't there. It was unfortunate."
At those words, the chubby man seemed to remember something, his expression showing surprise.
Along with that, a mix of emotions crossed his face as he looked at Oliver—anger, curiosity, confusion, and even a bit of fascination.
"Oh! That's right... you... No, no, I didn’t mean it like that. Just a moment... Ahem!"
The chubby man seemed to stir up even more complicated emotions than when he first encountered Oliver.
Back then, he had a clear purpose—he wanted to do business. But now, his feelings were far more chaotic.
He had something to say, but seemed too scared to voice it. Oliver spoke up.
"I don’t know what's going on, but if you could tell me freely, I would appreciate it."
Hearing that, the chubby man glanced at Oliver's face, then let out a sigh.
A moment to gather his thoughts. Then, with newfound courage, he spoke firmly.
"...Your name is Dave, right? The rising powerhouse fixer in T-District."
"Uh... I'm not sure about the 'powerhouse' part, but yes, I’m the fixer Dave, active in T-District."
"Ha... I ended up doing business with a big shot."
The chubby man mumbled weakly, as if he couldn’t believe it.
When Oliver asked about this, the man explained the reason.
After his deal with Oliver, everything seemed normal. But suddenly, more and more customers started showing up.
"Could it be because of me?"
"They said they came after seeing the massive Greedy Pouch used by the fixer from T-District. Could it be related? …Does anything come to mind?"
"Uh... I did use it a few times in the Black Market, but could that really be the reason?"
Oliver asked, surprised. He hadn’t realized people were paying that much attention to him.
There were a few curious glances when Big Mouth swallowed items, but... Forest's warning didn’t seem to be a lie. The massive Greedy Pouch really did reveal Oliver’s identity...
Deanclige, who had been quietly listening, interrupted.
"It's common for people to imitate the equipment of successful fixers. But I don’t get it... No, I'm not trying to pick a fight, but isn’t that a good thing? If customers are flocking to you, it’s a positive, right?"
Deanclige questioned the chubby man almost aggressively, in line with his rough personality as someone who ran a gym in the tough X-District.
Feeling pressured, the chubby man, though scared, calmly replied.
He was clearly frightened, but also brave enough to answer.
"Ahem... It’s not that. The rumor spread weirdly. They’re saying I’m the kind of guy who can casually make obedient Greedy Pouches."
"Uh… couldn’t you just warn them like you did with me?"
"I did more than that! …The Greedy Pouch isn’t a simple, convenient tool like a magic bag—it’s an artificial life form with a mind of its own. It behaves now because it's small, but once it grows, who knows what it’ll do? There have even been cases of Greedy Pouches killing and devouring their owners... But no one listened! They all said it was fine because they saw you using it so well."
"So, you're saying it's his fault!"
Deanclige shouted. He was small in stature, but his voice boomed louder than anyone else's.
If it weren’t for the noisy fighting match nearby, his outburst would’ve drawn the attention of everyone around.
Oliver wondered why Deanclige was getting so worked up, but soon, Deanclige explained.
"This guy is one of my clients—a member who pays several times the normal fee for my gym! Are you trying to pick a fight with him? Hey, don't worry, leave this to me. If they’re trying to rip you off, I’m the expert here. Trust me!"
"What? Wait, did you say I pay several times the membership fee?"
"...That’s not the point right now!"
The conversation became a mess. The chubby man shook his hands, denying the accusations.
"No, no... that's not it. I’m not so shameless as to rip off my clients. I just have something to ask."
Sincerity. Oliver asked.
"What do you want to know?"
"Is your Greedy Pouch working without any problems?"
Oliver thought for a moment and nodded.
"Yes, sometimes it acts like it doesn’t want to work, but if I soothe it a little, it does its job well."
In fact, Big Mouth was a great help to Oliver’s work. Just a single bill would make it swallow anything, from massive amounts of corpses to various items, storing them with ease.
"Has there been some kind of issue?"
"I sold some Greedy Pouches to customers, but half of them couldn’t handle it. The other half, who let their guard down, were attacked or even killed by the Pouches."
"Uh... really?"
Oliver could tell from the man's emotions that he was telling the truth, but still found it hard to believe.
In Oliver’s experience, the Greedy Pouch made by this chubby man had been excellent in both performance and convenience.
"It’s true. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here right now."
The chubby man then explained how he ended up in this place.
He recounted how customers complained, rival black magicians reported him, and as a result, his stall was shut down, with the Grey Market’s manager demanding a huge compensation fee.
"Compensation?"
"Yeah. They claimed my products ruined their business reputation. They also said they had to use their own money to clean up the mess with the angry customers. It’s absurd, but I couldn’t argue."
"Why not?"
"They had guns, and I can’t fight."
"Ah..."
The chubby man continued, explaining that he’d since found a job at a black magic workshop controlled by a crime firm.
With no money, he had to pay off his debt through hard labor.
Despite the rumors, the crime firm believed he could still make Greedy Pouches and forced him to produce them. When the results weren’t up to par, they subjected him to grueling, exploitative work.
"There were plenty of other pitiful black magicians like me there."
"Oh... How did you manage to escape?"
"I smuggled out some of the workshop's products and launched a black magic-infused firework in broad daylight. When the Holy Knights arrived and the workshop turned into chaos, I made my escape."
It felt oddly similar to a story Murphy once told.
"...Well, I guess that’s fortunate."
"Fortunate? If the crime firm finds out about this, they’ll skin me alive. Judging by my size, that’d take a whole day."
"That’s why I’m hiding out here."
"Are you receiving help from a gang that assists fugitives?"
Oliver asked, recalling some knowledge he’d learned in the past.
"Yes..."
The chubby man nodded, his voice trembling with worry.
Deanclige seemed to pick up on this and stepped closer, addressing the man.
"You seem to be worried about something. How about we talk? I feel like I could be a big help."
He lightly grabbed the chubby man’s arm. The man tried to pull away in panic, but Deanclige didn’t let go, like a predator seizing its prey.
Deanclige then turned to Oliver.
"If you don’t mind, could you wait here? The match will start soon, but I have some business to attend to."
"Business?"
"Yes, business."
The chubby man looked extremely flustered at how things were progressing without his input, but Deanclige didn’t release him and dragged him off somewhere.
The chubby man shot a pleading glance at Oliver, but Deanclige’s emotions were only filled with greed and opportunism, devoid of malice or murderous intent, so Oliver pretended not to notice.
"Alright, let’s go."
"Wait, hold on... why are you so strong..."
With that, Deanclige and the chubby man disappeared down a dark hallway.
Oliver turned back to look at the arena.
As Deanclige had mentioned, the next match was being prepared after the previous one had ended.
A bulky fighter with one side of his face mangled was being carried out, while those who had lost their bets angrily threw their tickets into the air.
Amid the waves of joy, anger, elation, and sadness, the next contestant entered the ring.
Joe, wearing only pants, with his upper body fully exposed.
His solid muscles and numerous scars stood out.
The audience, especially the women, cheered loudly for him. There were rumors he had been a professional fighter, and it seemed he was quite popular.
‘Though he doesn’t seem to be in the best of moods.’
Oliver noted Joe's emotions, which were more subdued than usual.
Soon, his opponent appeared.
Contrary to expectations of a menacing man, the opponent was a scrawny figure who looked entirely out of place in this kind of fight.
In fact, he looked as if he should be in a hospital bed.
Yet, none of the spectators found it strange or laughed. Some even appeared excited.
Upon closer inspection, it was clear the opponent’s frail state wasn’t just from malnutrition.
Faint traces of black magic clung to him.
Drooping muscles, unfocused eyes, thinning hair, rotting teeth and nails...
All signs of someone who had abused black magic to the point of exhaustion.
"Inject the drugs!"
Men who seemed to be the contestant’s companions forcibly administered a potion infused with black magic into his body.
Then, a transformation began.
The man, who looked like he would collapse at any moment, turned crimson, and his muscles and height swelled dramatically.
It was as if he’d created something out of nothing.
His body thrashed as though burning his last remaining life force, and the audience, terrified by the sight, stepped back.
The only one who remained calm was Joe.
Joe seemed used to this, displaying boredom as he extracted some emotion into a vial from his waist.
Unprocessed emotions.
With that, he used Burning Life to enhance his entire body, while covering his arms and legs with a thin layer of Black Suit and Black Armor.
"Impressive..."
Oliver muttered, genuinely admiring what he saw.
Although Joe’s black magic skills weren’t particularly remarkable, his physical strength and close combat abilities far surpassed Oliver’s. He must have diligently practiced and refined his technique to find the optimal method for himself.
A rather formidable sight.
Sensing the odds of victory, the previously frightened crowd began chanting Joe's name, waving their betting tickets in the air.
"Knuckle Joe!"
"Knuckle Joe!"
"Knuckle Joe!"
Amid the cheers, Joe and his opponent faced each other.
As the bell rang to signal the start of the match, the two clashed.
...
"What brings you here?"
Joe, having finished the fight in just 15 seconds, noticed Oliver and approached him.
