Chapter 412: Secret Meeting (2)
The Flesh Chef, who had taken an interest in Oliver, spoke.
Oliver asked, “What do you think, now that you've seen me in person?”
The Flesh Chef looked Oliver up and down, as if appraising a piece of merchandise, and replied, “Well... I’m not quite sure yet. It’s only been less than a minute since I laid eyes on you.”
“Ah...”
“But one thing’s certain—you’re no coward. You came to meet me, after all... I'll give you credit for that.”
“Thank you for saying so. Though I’m not sure it’s worth any praise, seeing as you did order me to come.”
“Yes, I did. However, those who actually come are few and far between. Even fewer respond to an invitation and show up.”
Invitation. As soon as he heard that word, Oliver thought of the massive explosion.
The one that left a huge scar on Zone O, a middle-class residential area in Landa.
The explosion was so intense that the entire area visible to the naked eye was flattened. As a result, Zone O’s administration was practically paralyzed, and the once high property values plummeted, causing countless people to shed bitter tears.
The daily reports of suicides in the newspapers confirmed the aftermath.
“It’s nothing special,” the Flesh Chef commented after hearing about the chaos caused by his invitation. His words, despite the torrent of emotions behind them, did not seem false.
“Nothing... special?”
Yareli reacted with a tinge of anger, and the Flesh Chef seemed surprised.
“Oh, are you the type to get worked up? Don’t misunderstand. I’m just saying we should look at the bright side.”
“...”
“Sure, my invitation caused a lot of deaths, buildings collapsed, and a huge economic loss led many to the point where they wanted to put a gun to their head... But there are still those who will profit, aren’t there? Speculators, construction companies, the laborers underneath them. When redevelopment starts, many will find work, and some will even become rich. My point is, even in tragedy, there’s hope. Like Pandora’s box.”
The Flesh Chef spoke with an almost awe-inspiring shamelessness.
Naturally, Yareli responded with a stunned expression and a cold fury.
She knew how many had died or been injured due to the terror attack on her city.
Even though she wasn’t directly involved, she felt a sense of guilt and responsibility for the current situation, where civilians were caught up in the Tower of Magic’s affairs.
Meanwhile, Oliver, who had been caught in that explosion, didn’t feel any of that.
The most he felt was a vague sense of regret. Perhaps that was all.
In fact, he found himself agreeing with the Flesh Chef to some extent.
He had heard from Forest how many people viewed the tragedy in Zone O as an opportunity.
Speculators, construction firms, various contractors, and fixers had even coined the term "the second redevelopment boom."
To Oliver, it was less of a tragedy and more of an intriguing social phenomenon.
He knew with his mind that it was a sad event, but he couldn't grasp it in his heart.
“The conversation’s gone off track... Anyway, what I’m saying is that you’re not a coward. Unless, of course, you’re a fool who moves as he’s told out of fear.”
The Flesh Chef pointed at Oliver, who was lost in thought.
“Answer me. After getting caught up in that explosion, what nerve did you have to come meet me? Was it because my threat worked?”
Oliver recalled the Flesh Chef’s words, when he had threatened to target those around him if Oliver didn’t come.
“Well, that’s part of it. But I also wanted to meet you.”
“That's unexpected. I’ve met many who wanted to avoid me, but never anyone who actually wanted to see me. Why is that?”
“To hit you.”
Oliver answered without a moment’s hesitation. The Flesh Chef, hearing this, showed a brief look of surprise before bursting into laughter.
“Puhahahahaha!!”
The Flesh Chef laughed heartily. With each laugh, the magic power in his body surged like molten lava, pressing and pounding the surroundings.
It wasn’t just psychological; it had a physical force.
Yareli circulated the magic power within her to deflect the pressure, while Oliver sat quietly, enduring it as if nothing was wrong.
Seeing this, the Flesh Chef leaned forward and taunted him.
“If you want, why don’t you try hitting me now?”
“Hmm... No, thank you for the offer, but I’d prefer to keep talking.”
“That's a shame. If you’d hit me, I would have responded in kind.”
It was an odd remark. The Flesh Chef had called him here presumably to fight, now that the Puppet’s protection was gone. Yet, he sounded as if he had no intention of fighting now.
When Oliver asked about it, the Flesh Chef replied in a deflated tone, quite unlike the energy from their first encounter.
“The situation has changed. A troublesome fellow showed up.”
“A troublesome... fellow?”
“Yeah, a crazy old kid who thinks he’s a prince.”
Oliver tilted his head, unfamiliar with the term "old kid," prompting the Flesh Chef to explain.
“It’s a term I came up with. It’s the opposite of a child prodigy... Anyway, what matters is that the old kid came here because of you.”
“I don’t quite understand.”
“He heard about you. The rumors that you fought the Son of Angels. He’s someone who’s interested in things like that, so he naturally took an interest in you.”
Oliver was slightly surprised.
It seemed to refer to the battle he had with Bonifa, the Son of Angels. Even though the Pater Church had remained silent, it was curious how not only the Flesh Chef, but also an unknown "old kid" had heard of it.
“Don’t be too surprised. There’s no such thing as a secret. The point is, because of you, a bothersome person arrived, and it’s making things very unpleasant for me. It could even disrupt my plans.”
Using his Necromancer’s Sight, Oliver could sense the sincerity in the Flesh Chef’s emotions, mixed with anger and greed. Though not entirely clear, he was genuine.
“What kind of plans?”
“If I were stupid enough to reveal that, my life would be much easier... But there won’t be any harm to Landa or the Tower of Magic.”
It was true.
Yareli, who had been listening quietly, interjected.
“So, that means Gallos and Roculi University could be harmed.”
“That’s why I like people from prestigious families. They catch on quickly. Yes, I’m telling you to quietly leave, because you’ll be spared.”
The Flesh Chef clapped his hands. Amid the turmoil of his emotions, his confidence was unmistakable.
It wasn’t mere bluster; he genuinely intended to spare them.
“Are you telling us to back off after declaring war?”
“I’m a bit inconsistent. My heart is as fickle as a reed.”
“Even if you’re part of the Black Hand, you’re quite arrogant.”
“Do you really think so?”
The Flesh Chef’s expression hardened.
“I think you’re the ones who are arrogant. Whether it’s the Tower of Magic or Roculi University, your histories are just a drop in the bucket compared to my lifetime. How can you be so confident?”
It wasn’t an entirely baseless remark.
While it was true that black magicians were generally considered inferior to traditional magicians, that only applied to the average cases. Treating an old monster, who had lived for centuries, as if they were on the same level was clearly a mistake.
In the past, when Oliver was still ignorant, he might have accepted that. But having stepped out into the world, met various people, and even encountered the Puppet, he now understood that one should never judge someone like the Flesh Chef by ordinary standards.
There was something more to them than just raw power.
The Puppet was a prime example.
Suddenly, Oliver found himself curious. Which was stronger: the Archive or the “fingers” of the Black Hand? Which had more depth?
Of course, the world wasn’t so simple that such questions could be easily answered.
Demonstrating this complexity, Yareli did not lose her composure or courage despite the Flesh Chef's pressure.
“Even if you really have the power to crush the Tower of Magic and Roculi University, it doesn’t matter. Just because you’re stronger doesn’t mean we’ll break our promises or run away.”
This wasn’t bluster—it was genuine. Oliver admired Yareli’s attitude.
As a skilled individual herself, Yareli had some idea of the Flesh Chef’s power, and yet, she was prepared to risk her life for the mission.
It stemmed from her sense of duty and pride.
However, the Flesh Chef responded to her resolve with bewilderment and ridicule.
“Hmm... Impressive. You sound just like a hero. A hero trying to save the world from evil. I don’t understand why you would feel that way about me, though.”
Surprisingly, he was sincere. Among the many things he had said, this was the most genuine.
Even amidst his tumultuous and vast emotions, the sincerity stood out.
He continued with his questions.
“Do you think Roculi University and the Tower of Magic are forces of justice? Or victims? Do you see me as evil and a perpetrator?”
Yareli didn’t respond verbally, but her emotions conveyed her answer clearly.
Oliver, too, could read it, and the Flesh Chef likely did as well.
He spoke, interpreting Yareli’s emotions as he pleased.
“I don’t get it. Why do you think that way? What makes you so sure? I’m just adapting to this world in a more... proactive manner.”
“Eating people... is adapting?” Yareli asked incredulously.
“Yes. Why? Does it seem strange? Everyone is doing it, in one way or another.”
His mocking tone was drenched in sarcasm. But there was no falsehood.
Regardless of absolute truth, the Flesh Chef genuinely believed his words.
Oliver, struck by curiosity, asked, “Could you explain more specifically?”
“Is there really a need? Such sights are everywhere in today’s world. Overseas, in colonial wars, in class conflicts, in the disparity between rich and poor, in dreadful working conditions. People are devouring each other.”
“Enough with the sophistry. Are you trying to cover your heinous crimes by pointing out some social issues?” Yareli could not hide her disgust. It was only natural.
Though the current age was not perfect, it was still humanity’s golden era ushered in by the hands of magicians.
To think a black magician would attempt to justify eating people... It was indeed repulsive.
Yet ironically, the Flesh Chef found Yareli’s attitude just as disgusting.
“A few social issues, you say? Hmph... Do you know how long children work each day?”
“Twelve to sixteen hours,” Oliver answered immediately, because he had experienced it himself. It was a long time ago, but the memory was still vivid.
“Ding ding. Typically, children work twelve to sixteen hours a day. Factory owners love them because they’re easy to control and cost less than half an adult’s wage. Ah, but you probably wouldn’t know anything about that. You’ve likely never had to work for a living or starve.”
The Flesh Chef fixed his gaze on Yareli, applying more pressure.
“Children who work twelve to sixteen hours daily eventually break down. Whether it’s from accidents, chemical exposure, or sheer exhaustion, they get used up. What do you think happens to a child who looks like an old man by the time he’s knee-high?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“They’re fired. Kicked out onto the streets... Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying it’s necessarily bad.”
He was sincere.
“I just don’t understand. People are already doing what I’m doing—devouring lives. The only difference is that while they consume people’s lives indirectly, I do it literally. So, why am I the only one who gets blamed? Why? Do you really think I’m worse?”
Yareli remained silent. Those at the Tower of Magic were aware of the dire working conditions in Landa, whether directly or indirectly.
“Magicians are no different. While black magicians conduct human experiments as easily as eating a meal, you aren’t much better. The Tower’s experiments on humans are well-known, aren’t they?”
“...”
“And that’s not all. Magicians prey on each other too. That strange specimen over there is proof of that. I acquired it from Roculi University’s affiliates—either by purchasing or obtaining information... Ah, there’s no need to explain further. The Ice-eye family was once hunted, after all.”
“...”
“Haven’t you ever doubted it? Are you sure that the only traitor in Roculi University is in the Life Alchemy Department? There could be more.”
Yareli responded with silence once again.
The Flesh Chef seemed satisfied with her reaction and stood up.
“If you think you’re doing something noble, you should abandon that notion. Humans are all the same. We’re all eating each other. You’ll understand once you take that specimen to Roculi University. It’s a gift.”
As the Flesh Chef finished speaking, a rift opened in the air, and a brief gust of wind blew. He disappeared through the crack, demonstrating his adeptness in spatial magic.
Oliver glanced at Yareli, who appeared troubled and conflicted, before rising from his seat.
“For now, let’s take care of the specimens. There should be cases nearby that we can use to...”
“...Zenon.”
“Yes, Miss Yareli?”
“I’ve been observing you and reporting to the Archmaster of the Skadi Sub-School... to my grandmother. It was what she wanted.”
“I see.”
“...Did you know?”
“I wasn’t certain, but I did have a feeling I was being watched. It’s not that surprising. But I’m curious, why are you telling me now?”
“...Because I want to know what it means that you fought the Son of Angels. Can you explain?”