Chapter 413: Uprising (1)
"…I just want to understand what it means to have fought the Son of Angels. Can you explain it to me?"
Yareli asked, still puzzled.
It wasn’t as though she didn’t understand.
She was already juggling multiple tasks, including supporting Roculi University, dealing with the Tower of Magic's interests, monitoring the position of the Skadi Sub-School, and keeping an eye on Oliver.
And amidst all this, having an unexpected conversation with the Flesh Chef was enough to cause confusion.
After some hesitation, Oliver finally spoke.
"Hmm… I'm afraid I can't share that. It's not just my matter alone."
"Not just your matter?"
"Yes."
Oliver answered while thinking of Merlin. If he were to share anything, it would be only after seeking Merlin's permission.
"However, if you answer one of my questions, Yareli, I might be able to give you a brief answer."
A sudden proposal. Yareli’s gaze grew more suspicious than when she was talking to the Flesh Chef.
After some thought, she asked.
"What are you curious about?"
"The Flesh Chef said that people eat each other. What do you think about that, Yareli?"
"…Why are you asking?"
"I'm simply curious. About what others think."
...
"What is this nonsense?"
A young voice echoed from the gigantic mechanical tower in Central Area No. 1 of Laville.
The tower had been erected to showcase Gallos' national strength and was supposedly under maintenance, which meant no one should be inside… and yet, here was a child's voice.
However, the Flesh Chef responded to the voice.
"What’s the problem?"
A small shadow was clinging to his back, holding a dagger to his neck.
Despite this, the Flesh Chef remained entirely unfazed. Because—
—Shlick!
He knew that a mere shadow like this wouldn’t leave even a scratch on his body.
To prove his point, the Flesh Chef scratched his scaly neck as if it were itchy, then drew a French knife with his other hand and sliced through the shadow.
The shadow split in two with a swish.
Yet, it immediately reformed, returning to its owner, the Eternal Child, Pan, while still aiming the dagger at the Flesh Chef.
"What kind of trick is this?"
Pan asked, his voice tinged with the typical irritability of a child.
"You said if I helped you, you’d hand over the guy who fought the Son of Angels to me…"
"Indeed. Avoiding the eyes of the Archive… Ah, is it because I told you to leave?"
Pan affirmed with silence.
"That was just to confuse you. Where do you find fools who leave just because an enemy tells them to?"
The Flesh Chef said this boldly, almost shamelessly, yet there was some sincerity to his words.
Having gone as far as planting bombs in Landa, it wasn’t an option to leave simply because he was told to. This conflict had evolved beyond a war of wizards.
If they left, the Tower of Magic would not only lose its prestige and influence but also face intense scrutiny from Landa City, which had supported them.
In other words, it would be as if they were caught by the nose.
That was why he had told them to leave. Because they couldn’t, and it would only add to the confusion.
Of course, it wasn’t easy to grasp that meaning… but there was some truth mixed in.
This was the trick to dealing with a fellow black magician: mixing truth with lies to make even their keen eyes worthless.
It was a deceptively simple yet surprisingly tricky approach.
"So, don’t act like a brat who misunderstood. If I had any other schemes, I would’ve pulled them in the basement just now… We don’t care about him. We’re more interested in dinner."
Perhaps there was some sense to this, as Pan thought for a moment before commanding his shadow to return to his feet.
"Fine. I’ll believe you."
"Oh, you're trusting me so easily?"
The Flesh Chef sneered. Given Pan’s notoriously nasty temperament, he didn’t expect him to back down so quickly.
But unfortunately, his prediction wasn’t entirely off.
"Not that easily."
"What?"
Snap—
Pan clicked his fingers.
Immediately, monsters emerged from the darkness in every corner of the tower, which was supposed to be sealed off except for essential power during maintenance.
They were Pan’s creatures, twisted monstrosities shaped by pure, cruel imagination and black magic.
"I’m leaving these guys in the tower."
"Are you kidding?"
"No kidding… Think of it as a kind of insurance. Or maybe a penalty. Since the old man acted on his own, I need some safeguards, don’t I?"
Snap! Snap! Snap!
Grrr…
Caw! Caw!
Grumble…
Smack. Smack. Smack.
From the dimly lit corridors, where the electricity had been shut off, a cacophony of various creatures' cries echoed—human teeth clicking, birds’ beaks clacking, beasts’ jaws snapping, and fish gills flaring.
"Don’t be scared. As long as you don’t try any tricks, I’ll hand over control to you. Your subordinates need to be mobilized for the feast, and you also need forces to guard the tower. I’ll keep an eye on you and watch your back… or, if you don’t like it, I can destroy everything right here."
Pan's creatures cried out once more, making the entire tower reverberate with their voices in a threatening tone.
It was a truly ironic situation.
Despite being a marvel of civilization built with advanced architecture and mechanical engineering to showcase national strength, the tower had become a den of monsters almost instantly.
Then again, perhaps it was only fitting. After all, this civilization itself had been built on a foundation of savagery.
The Flesh Chef proposed a compromise.
"I’ll accept it, on the condition that not a single one of them is placed on the top floor."
"Why?"
"Because just seeing your creatures disgusts me. Even I, who have seen countless beings from otherworldly realms, find them repulsive. It shouldn’t matter if they’re stationed just one floor below, should it? Or are you so scared of me that you can’t even allow this?"
The Flesh Chef's taunt seemed to work.
"Hmm… Fine."
"It’s a monumental day, isn’t it? A day when you and I actually see eye to eye. Though I don’t feel particularly good about it."
As the Flesh Chef made this sarcastic declaration, Pan, along with his shadow, raised his middle finger before retreating into the dark hallway.
The small figure of Pan soon melded into the darkness, and as his presence faded, the Flesh Chef opened his necromancer's sight to scan the entire mechanical tower, locating each creature and spreading his will to give them commands.
As promised, once Pan disappeared, the creatures began to follow the Flesh Chef’s orders.
"Why did you come back?"
After the tense conversation that had nearly derailed everything came to an end, Gretel emerged from the tower's observatory and asked.
"What?"
The Flesh Chef responded to his younger sister’s question with one of his own.
"The basement. That guy… It was a good opportunity, wasn’t it?"
She was referring to why he hadn’t consumed Zenon or Dave. The Flesh Chef pondered for a moment before answering.
"…It just seemed like the right thing to do."
"What?"
"Does that sound strange?"
"A bit. Our nature isn’t to stand idly by when there’s a tasty morsel right in front of us."
"True… But this time, the situation is more complicated."
Gretel didn’t argue with him.
Even she, who had lived for centuries, was in the midst of preparing a feast of an unprecedented scale, one that required sacrificing an entire organization that had been painstakingly built up.
Of course, she had no regrets. Now that the clock was ticking, they had to move faster than anyone else, even if it meant overextending themselves.
"In that context, there’s no need to create variables unnecessarily. If that brat Pan really took offense and interfered, it could ruin everything. Besides, I can’t even guarantee that guy is worth the trouble… In other words, let’s stick to our priorities."
Gretel unconsciously focused her eyes, using her necromancer's sight to peer at her brother.
Unlike herself, who had developed a balance between being a wizard and a black magician, her brother focused more on the powers of a black magician, radiating a turbulent flow of emotions rather than a solid wall of magical energy. Reading his true intentions from his emotions was challenging.
But Gretel, being a skilled black magician herself, could partially perceive a single, gleaming thread of truth within that turbulent flow.
"Well, that does make sense."
"Right?"
"Yeah. Still, it’s annoying to hand him over to a creepy brat who pretends to be a kid."
"You don’t have to. If he really is special, he won’t be easily taken by Pan. If he is, then he wasn’t much to begin with."
Gretel felt a sense of relief, as if her muddled thoughts had cleared.
Her brother’s words made sense.
Though the person who had fought and defeated the Son of Angels and felled Theodoor was indeed remarkable, there was no certainty that he was truly exceptional. If he were genuinely someone special, then he wouldn't fall prey to a delusional boy like Pan. If he did, then that was all there was to him, and if it came to it, they could always take him back later, after finishing their feast.
Having cleared the confusion clouding her mind, Gretel spoke in a refreshed voice.
"You're right. First, let’s focus on what we’ve prepared."
"Exactly."
Seeing his sister finally at ease, the Flesh Chef, uncharacteristically, flashed a warm, gentle smile.
It was a kind and comforting smile.
And as if she appreciated such a smile, Gretel mirrored it and then clapped her hands together lightly, as if there was still something that weighed on her mind.
"Um… But are you sure it’s okay? I mean, this… Since it all started because of my mistake, would it be alright for me to go first?"
"Don’t you remember the promise?"
"Promise?"
"I said you could have the most delicious part first. That promise we made back at that house."
...
[Roculi University must explain! They owe us an explanation!]
Inside a massive library within Roculi University, Oliver was observing and listening to the ongoing speech outside the university grounds through a telescope and using black magic.
Though he still had many books left to read, Oliver's attention was drawn to the large-scale demonstration, a sight he had never seen before, and he found himself captivated.
The man standing on the podium, holding a microphone, continued to shout. The sound equipment behind him amplified his harsh voice, striking the ears of the countless people gathered outside the university.
[How long have we allowed the kingdom's people to run rampant in our Gallos?! And that’s not all! In the name of capturing black magicians, they’ve turned the city upside down, treating it like a war zone! They’ve completely disregarded our safety!!]
The man was furious, and his anger soon spread to the crowd, fueled by a shared sense of resentment.
While his words were crude and fierce, they weren’t entirely wrong.
After all, Oliver, along with Kevin, Terrence, and Yareli, had aggressively raided the Flesh Chef’s operations and hideouts.
Of course, it wasn’t as if they hadn’t considered collateral damage. They had taken measures, at least to the extent they would have while operating in Landa.
However, the complaints stirred by the ensuing fierce battles in the city had not been fully addressed.
Or perhaps they hadn’t been addressed because such behavior had been tolerated in Landa.
‘Landa really is a rough place. We caused a ruckus there, and no one seemed to mind.’
Oliver recalled this obvious fact as he continued to observe the speech through the telescope. The man on the podium kept shouting.
[And look! What were the police doing while these so-called great magicians from the United Kingdom were turning our home into a battlefield?! And what about the administrators? …They didn’t say a word! They didn’t care at all about our safety and lives! When did we start getting treated like this?! Decades ago, we fought for freedom, equality, and our God-given rights that no one can infringe upon!!]
Although the concept of freedom and equality from decades ago didn’t resonate much with Oliver, it seemed to hold special meaning for the people here, as everyone listening to the speech became increasingly excited, shouting with all their hearts. One woman in the crowd even yelled out.
"And women's rights, too!"
[Now, let's not get ahead of ourselves.]
The man on the podium quickly corrected her, sounding more sincere than when he spoke about God-given rights.
"Are you still watching?"
Someone spoke to Oliver, who was observing outside from the library window. It was Yareli, a voice he was now quite familiar with.
Without turning his gaze from the outside, Oliver answered. The scene outside was more intriguing.
"Yes, it’s an unusual sight, at least for Landa. The speech is quite interesting, too."
"What are they talking about?"
"They’re expressing their discontent with us running wild in their city. Although they haven’t used the term ‘yangbak’ yet. I wonder what that means—ah, they just said it. 'Yangbak.' By the way, what does ‘yangbak’ mean? I’ve asked, but no one ever answers."
"…You’ve asked?"
"Yes, I’m curious."
"Ah…"
Yareli sighed deeply, genuinely regretting it.
"Anyway, they’re also venting their frustration at the police and administrators for letting us do as we pleased. And they’re talking about how they fought decades ago for freedom, equality, and God-given rights… except for women. Did you really say these people are backed by the Flesh Chef?"
"According to the documents we got from Mr. Lucien. Some capitalist and intellectual figures aligned with the Commoner Faction… Honestly, I find it hard to believe."
Oliver nodded in agreement. It was astonishing that the Flesh Chef, who already controlled half of Gallos' underworld, had managed to secure such influence even in the open society.
Perhaps it wasn’t that strange, though. It was a common sight in Landa as well.
Using vast capital to invest in businesses and support certain individuals to wield influence...
Still, even with that in mind, something didn’t add up.
Why would someone with such overwhelming influence continue to escalate conflict, stirring up trouble repeatedly…
Though Oliver wasn’t an expert in these matters, he knew that someone with that much power would typically act more cautiously, like the directors of crime firms, taking their time to avoid risk.
When an organization grows, it’s only natural to move with greater caution.
For a moment, Oliver wondered if the Flesh Chef simply lacked patience, but he quickly dismissed the thought.
The Flesh Chef he had met seemed rough in speech but exuded an air of seasoned experience. Moreover, anyone who had built a network of this magnitude had surely proven their patience.
That made it all the more incomprehensible.
Why provoke Roculi University, the Tower of Magic, and even the Commoner Faction, to the point of inciting the involvement of the king and nobility? It only provided an excuse for them to step in more actively.
As a result, the military had stationed itself around Gallos, raising the city's tension levels.
Though things had temporarily calmed down, it was a reckless choice. In the end, it only escalated tensions further.
Oliver spoke without turning to Yareli.
"Has Professor Terrence made a decision?"
"No, he’s still negotiating with Roculi University. It’s frustrating, but given the circumstances, there’s not much that can be done. The citizens are protesting, and within the university, there’s suspicion about who might be colluding with the Flesh Chef."
That was indeed the case.
After their clandestine meeting with the Flesh Chef and the delivery of a peculiar entity, Roculi University’s internal members began suspecting one another of possible dealings with him.
As a result, the tension both inside and outside escalated, leaving everyone stuck in a deadlock.
"So, did Mr. Terrence call for me?"
"No. I’m here because I had some business. I came to give you an answer."
"…An answer?"
For the first time, Oliver shifted his gaze to Yareli.
"Yes, about my thoughts on the idea that people eat each other. I asked you for some time to think about it."
"Have you come to a conclusion?"
"Yes. But I have a condition."
Oliver tilted his head, puzzled. Conditions on top of conditions?
"Does Mr. Zenon have any thoughts on this?"
"Hmm… Yes, although I wouldn’t call it a definitive answer. I do have some personal views."
"Can you share them?"
"Uh… I’m sorry, but wouldn’t I be at a disadvantage? I’m supposed to tell you about the Son of Angels—"
"—That’s okay. I am curious, but now I’m more interested in Mr. Zenon’s thoughts. So, could you share them?"
An unexpected proposal. But not a bad one. In fact, this was preferable.
Even if he were to give a brief explanation, recounting what happened with the Son of Angels was no trivial matter for Oliver.
Moreover, sharing opinions on the same topic seemed more productive.
But still, there was a question.
"May I ask why you changed your focus?"
"Does it matter?"
Yareli responded differently than usual. It was as if a layer of caution had been shed from the way she used to interact with Oliver.
Perhaps there were just too many stressful things going on.
Oliver answered.
"No… Well, as for my thoughts━"
━Boom!!!
A sudden explosion swallowed Oliver's words.
Fortunately, the reinforced glass didn’t shatter, but it shook considerably. Turning his gaze toward the source of the blast, Oliver saw something unbelievable.
The area where the speech had just been taking place was now engulfed in a massive explosion, releasing thick gray smoke.
Beyond the gray smoke, ominous red flames could be seen, and both Oliver and Yareli stared at the rising plume in silence.
Though their reasons for looking were different.
Yareli was in disbelief at what was happening right before her eyes, while Oliver saw a figure approaching through the smoke.
It was an exceptionally large person. A giant, in fact.
"A-a giant!"
The guard at the university’s main gate shouted.