Chapter 488: A Conversation with the Demon (1)
The moment Oliver inhaled the Filgaret, he could feel it. The intense emotions Duncan had harbored during his life: the countless joys and sorrows, anger, frustrations, goals, hopes, and determination he had experienced.
It was the pure essence of emotions extracted from one person, and within that essence, the memories associated with those feelings were interwoven.
Ingesting it felt... strange. It wasn’t just about glimpsing someone else's memories, but about truly experiencing them.
As the smoke filled his body, Oliver sensed the pride Duncan felt about being born into a family of mages.
He felt the despair that gripped Duncan upon learning he had Magical Overload.
The anger of being rejected by those around him due to this condition.
The betrayal he felt when he was branded defective and expelled from both the Tower of Magic and his own family.
Duncan's vow to prove himself and seek revenge, fueled by that anger and betrayal.
The hope he glimpsed for new possibilities in the Underworld.
And finally, Duncan's unwavering resolve that never faded, even after countless failures over a long period.
In that brief, fleeting moment, Oliver lived through what could be considered Duncan's entire life.
It was bizarre.
Oliver had smoked Filgaret twice before, but the effects had never been this intense. At most, he could only indirectly sense Duncan’s intense and pure emotions. This time, however, it was far beyond that.
Oliver had become Duncan himself, a man whose life had been consumed by pride, betrayal, and revenge.
Perhaps that was why? Oliver's expressionless face quivered subtly, as if a mask had come to life. It was eerie.
‘Stay focused.’
Just as he felt himself being swallowed by the inexplicable power of the Filgaret, Oliver shouted internally to regain his senses.
Considering the situation he faced and the entity standing before him, he couldn’t afford to lose consciousness.
Fortunately, Oliver managed to collect himself and saw the Burned One standing before him.
The Burned One was patiently waiting while Oliver inhaled the Filgaret and momentarily lost his focus, out of pure consideration.
As Oliver came back to his senses, the Burned One spoke.
[What do you find excessive?]
"…Cursing someone else's family like that doesn’t seem right."
Oliver’s voice held more life than usual, likely due to the Filgaret's influence.
[It's not a curse. It’s a prophecy.]
As soon as the words reached him, Oliver channeled his emotions into the end of his quarterstaff, unleashing a bomb of rage.
The menacing explosion, occurring at such close proximity, only managed to push the Burned One back slightly.
The demon's body, which seemed like it could crumble at any moment, remained intact.
Oliver had anticipated this outcome, but witnessing it firsthand made the demon's presence even more overwhelming.
At that moment...
As Oliver prepared to extract his emotions with the hand holding the quarterstaff, the Burned One raised a finger.
It was a gesture indicating a desire to speak. Oliver stopped, just as the Burned One had waited for him earlier, and soon a voice echoed from all directions.
[Why do you interfere?]
The question contrasted sharply with the previous ones. It differed from when Oliver had asked about Joanna and the fate of the city.
The demon sounded genuinely perplexed.
[Haven’t you witnessed their sins?]
"...I have my own responsibilities. Right now, my task is to assist the Holy Knight."
[Is that so?]
The demon, who had spoken only what was necessary, repeated itself. The tone now seemed to carry something resembling emotion.
[Let me ask just one more thing... Do you truly believe you can stop me?]
"Hmm... I have to at least try."
Oliver replied after a brief but deep contemplation, then immediately extracted his emotions.
From his chest, emerged a darkness deeper than anything else, exuding an ominous aura of dread. It was like staring into the night sea in the middle of a vast ocean.
Fortunately, due to the small amount, it was manageable for the human eye.
Oliver scattered that small amount of darkness onto the ground as he began chanting.
[Hell Summon.]
With the chant, the black emotion that spread across the ground rapidly multiplied, covering not just the earth but also the shadows where light couldn’t reach, infinitely expanding its influence.
[Imprison.]
As soon as he dominated the space, Oliver manipulated the indeterminate, amorphous black substance to restrain the Burned One.
When he clenched his fist, the black substance swirled around the Burned One, and ten rotating tendrils wrapped around the demon, allowing no space to escape.
It was a powerful and mysterious technique, one that had even made Joanna and Archive Merlin retreat.
However, the Burned One remained standing, as if merely observing.
The black tendrils silently engulfed the Burned One, and with the disappearance of the only light source, the space was consumed by complete darkness.
A profound silence followed, so deep that one couldn’t even tell if they were breathing, with their eyes open or shut.
Just as it seemed like he would be swallowed whole by the stillness, a light flared up right in front of Oliver.
The Burned One had reignited its already charred body, burning away the black substance to ashes, and bringing light back into the darkness.
It was a strangely un-demonic sight.
For the first time, the Hell Summon had failed. Oliver tried to engulf the demon once more, but this time the demon was faster.
Huff...
A short breath escaped the cracked lips of the Burned One, and a tiny ember flew towards Oliver, exploding right before him.
━━━━!!
The explosion’s sound, almost surreal, conveyed its sheer power, and Oliver barely managed to shield himself from the initial impact by raising a massive wall of black material.
He then wrapped the black substance around his body to form a Black Suit, covering it with a cloak.
Though it consumed a lot of resources, the fact that Oliver used it showed just how much he felt threatened.
Even while smoking the Filgaret.
No sooner had Oliver created the cloak than he prepared to move.
It was his first time seeing a demon in person, let alone fighting one, but he instinctively knew that staying still meant the end.
No, that wasn't exactly correct. If the Burned One hadn't allowed it, even moving now would have been impossible.
Regardless, he had to act.
Just as Oliver was about to move, something grasped the hem of his coat. It was a faintly small hand.
Turning his head, Oliver saw children shaped out of darkness.
Not just the red-skinned child from earlier, but children from all walks of life: factory workers, newspaper boys, pickpockets, orphans, beggars, all the children that filled the world.
They must be fake, yet they felt incredibly real.
[Please help us.]
[It’s cold. We’re hungry.]
[It hurts. It hurts so much.]
[We’re scared.]
[I want to see my mom.]
The weak grip on his coat made Oliver hesitate for a moment, but he quickly pulled the cloak away, and the children crafted from darkness released their hold and vanished into thin air.
[You’re quite heartless.]
A voice echoed from all directions. Oliver, using his past experiences, guessed the Burned One’s location and immediately swung his quarterstaff.
Even with only one arm, the armor covering his body allowed him to create a sonic boom, shaking the ground with the sheer force. However, the Burned One blocked Oliver’s attack effortlessly with just one finger.
Standing in a simple posture, the demon stopped Oliver's assault as if it was nothing.
Oliver manipulated the cloak wrapped around his body to form a new arm in place of his burnt one, grabbing the quarterstaff tightly and pushing with all his strength. But he couldn't budge the Burned One at all. In fact, it was Oliver who was being pushed back.
It felt like trying to move a mountain with his bare hands.
The Burned One applied a little pressure to its finger, and Oliver was sent flying backward by an invisible force.
It wasn’t magic, black magic, or even the power of nature. It was something far beyond all that.
As Oliver flew far away, he drove the quarterstaff into the ground to stop himself.
He tried to manipulate the black substance to resist again, but the demon clenched the air, compressing the space around Oliver, capturing him along with the surrounding area.
Crack...
[Shadow Spike.]
The immense pressure, regardless of the armor, caused Oliver to feel excruciating pain in his burnt arm, yet he endured it and used black magic to cause a massive spike to surge from beneath the Burned One.
And it wasn’t just an ordinary spike. It was a massive structure, larger than ten meters, covered in countless thorns, resembling a torturous device from mythology.
Normally, it would have been impossible to use a technique of that scale, but it was all in vain.
The massive spike turned to ash as soon as it made contact with the Burned One, disintegrating instantly.
It had only brushed against the demon’s body.
The Burned One remained standing in the same spot, and Oliver was still caught in the invisible grasp.
Even in the state of smoking Filgaret.
[I knew you would hesitate.]
The demon spoke abruptly. Though the meaning wasn’t clear at first, the intense pain sharpened Oliver’s mind, allowing him to understand.
The demon was referring to the children made of darkness that had grabbed his cloak earlier. The illusions.
[Did you really think they were mere illusions?]
The demon asked again.
[You know they weren’t just illusions.]
“…Then what were they?”
Oliver gritted out the question, struggling against the searing pain that wracked his body and the burning agony in his right arm.
[That’s not something I can tell you. That’s for you to understand on your own… What matters is that you pushed them away. For the sake of a dirty, lowly woman nearby.]
The demon glanced at Joanna with its fiery eyes and then turned back to Oliver.
[...I am greatly disappointed.]
The Burned One tightened its grip, and the armor covering Oliver’s body began to shatter, emitting a dreadful sound.
[It seems I came out too early. Or maybe you’re just not someone who lives up to expectations.]
Crrrack...
[It's fine. You are a noble and interesting being, but that’s all. I don’t particularly acknowledge you.]
The demon concluded. Its tone lacked any discernible emotion, but it seemed sincere. To prove it, the Burned One attempted to twist and crush Oliver completely with its grip.
At that very moment, a faint cry of an infant echoed from beneath the Burned One’s feet.
From beneath the black substance covering the ground, babies began to emerge. They were reddish and slimy, like newborns made from mud.
One by one, they surfaced.
The infants, with tiny hands, grabbed hold of the demon, opening their small mouths to bite.
Crunch.
[Unborn lives… It seems you truly are a remarkable existence.]
Even as the babies' teeth sank into its body, the demon spoke calmly.
Meanwhile, numerous other infants emerged, biting and latching onto the Burned One. They piled atop one another, surrounding and enveloping the demon like an ant swarm.
[Murderous Combination.]
Freed from the demon’s grasp, Oliver chanted.
In response to his words, a figure shaped like a person emerged from behind him.
Covered in tar and appearing charred, the figure resembled a person from the descriptions in demonology books.
However, they were not demons.
Though summoned by Oliver, even he didn’t know their true identity. He could only instinctively sense that they were once humans who had fallen into ruin.
Oliver commanded the fallen beings to merge together.
Following his will, they fused into a single mass, using their bones and flesh as materials, and their sticky blood as an adhesive to form a giant hand gripping a knife.
The blade was a horrific weapon crafted from countless murderers, filled with all the evil and murderous intent in the world.
It was a knife so grotesque that just looking at it stirred the urge to gouge out one’s eyes.
The murderous blade moved according to Oliver’s will, aiming to stab the Burned One, who was surrounded by infants.
With all the malice and murderous intent in the world.
Thrust!
To his surprise, the knife of the murderers pierced through both the babies and the Burned One.
Not missing the opportunity, Oliver leapt forward, closing the distance in an instant with his black-clad cloak, wielding the quarterstaff in one hand and the blood-colored dagger in the other.
As he drew closer, Oliver could see it—the demon, untouched, even as its body was chewed by the infants and impaled by the massive knife.
Its surface showed no sign of injury, not even a scratch on its fingertip.
The babies and the knife turned to ashes in an instant, hinting at the demon’s resilience.
[Hate Bullet.]
The Burned One incinerated the attack in an instant. Seeing this, Oliver did not falter. He formed a gun with his left hand and fired a bullet infused with hatred.
A sound like ten thousand guns firing simultaneously echoed, creating countless holes in the demon’s body.
The Burned One’s figure staggered slightly. Had the attack managed to have some effect?
Before he could reach a conclusion, Oliver launched a relentless assault with the quarterstaff and blood-colored dagger using the black hands formed from his cloak.
He couldn’t afford to give the demon a single moment to think.
The quarterstaff, wrapped in black substance, whipped around like a hurricane, targeting the demon’s vital points with pinpoint accuracy. The blood-colored dagger filled the gaps, swirling non-stop as it slashed at the demon's body.
The dagger, infused with countless plagues, embedded diseases into the demon's flesh with every wound it left. Yet, the remnants of flames on its body burned away all traces of the diseases.
Every attack was rendered meaningless.
Tap. Tap.
The Burned One effortlessly caught Oliver’s quarterstaff and dagger with just the thumb and index finger of both hands.
[Ten Thousand Deadly Black Hands.]
Oliver chanted. The cloak wrapped around his body transformed into a thousand hands, seizing the Burned One.
The hands grabbed every possible part—ankles, calves, waist, shoulders, wrists, arms, knees, head, neck.
Like the hands of the dead, these hands voraciously consumed the warmth of their target, as if seeking heat like restless spirits.
Crunch!
The demon’s charred body began to wither, and its skin emitted a grinding sound as it cooled down.
As the demon’s body grew colder, darkness returned once more. But Oliver didn’t mind.
Eventually, the surroundings fell into complete darkness again, and Oliver concentrated the black substance of the Black Suit onto his face, fully covering it.
The transformed face was monstrous. The mouth opened wide.
[Out Cry.]