Chapter 490: Conversation with the Demon (3)
"What will you do after burning it all down?"
Oliver asked, wondering what the demon intended to do after setting the entire city ablaze.
For a moment, a faint silence spread, bringing a brief period of stillness.
Oliver spoke again.
"I once met the Son of Angels."
It seemed like a decent opening line, as both the burned man and the frightened Joanna reacted.
"Somehow, I ended up fighting him—a winged person who lit up the night sky with his brilliance."
Oliver recalled meeting him in Wineham. Was his name Bonifa?
"He had wings made of light and was strong. Also, a bit… peculiar."
[Why do you say that?]
"He was overly confident. Moreover, he stabbed someone precious to me with a sword."
[Someone precious?]
"Maybe… After my mentor, this person was the second to help me."
Oliver remembered when he first met Mari at the Joseph Family. She had just joined the family and helped him when he was being bullied by a supervisor.
It was the first time he had ever received help without any conditions attached. That’s why Oliver had asked Mari to teach him reading and arithmetic.
[So, what did you do?]
"Honestly, I don’t remember well. I just beat him severely. I really wanted to hit him. So, I hit him, over and over."
As he recalled that moment, Oliver answered. It was indeed...
"...satisfying. Striking someone who was so irritating, doing as I pleased. It’s an experience I don’t want to repeat."
[Didn’t you say it felt good?]
"Someone once told me that anger, hatred, and revenge are addictive. I think I understand that now."
[It is because it's enjoyable that it becomes addictive.]
"That person didn’t want me to become like that."
[You refrain from doing it just because someone else doesn’t want you to? How pathetic.]
"Yes, I didn’t really understand why I shouldn’t. But now, I choose not to do it of my own will. I’ve learned… it’s shameful."
Oliver recalled encountering a poor family while beating the weakened Bonifa.
An old mother and father, and children.
They were cowering in a corner, filled with fear—just like Joanna was now.
It was no surprise. After all, he had pointlessly struck and destroyed things on a whim.
It was natural for them, wearing shabby and ill-fitting clothes, to be terrified. Yet, even then, they tried to protect their family to the end.
"...It was very shameful."
Oliver rambled on as if he had realized something, but inside, all he felt was bitterness.
He had gotten angry several times afterward, during incidents with a flesh chef or while dealing with the Enjoyment Druid. It seemed he was truly self-indulgent.
[So, are you saying that revenge is futile, violence is bad, and nothing remains in the end? Is this your futile logic, hoping I'll stop?]
Oliver affirmed with silence. No matter how he tried to dress up his words, they amounted to just that.
Words even he couldn’t fully accept. But it was all he could say at the moment.
[That’s a cruel thing to say. To the ones who suffered, it’s just the past, so they should forget it? Do you think they invoked me with a light heart?]
The demon brushed aside the darkness and pointed to the Red-Skinned warlocks who had become a pile of corpses.
Those who had burned themselves like firewood and died while reciting twisted prayers.
[Could it be that you speak so easily because they are distant, disconnected from you?]
Oliver quietly stared at the Red-Skinned warlocks, who had been sacrificed for summoning the demon.
"...Yes."
Oliver answered, this time not with his usual questioning tone, but with a clear statement. Responding with a question here would have been discourteous.
"My first friend was a back-alley fixer. During the redevelopment boom, he was one of the people who brought suffering and sorrow to many. In the end, because of his job, he lost everything, including his family and one of his legs, and ended up a beggar."
The demon remained silent.
"My current mentor carried out countless inhumane experiments on crimson people in the past. To the extent that he avoids speaking about it."
The demon remained silent.
"My first friend, later on, received help from a nameless priest and is now repenting for his sins by aiding beggars and the poor. I was also helped by him… My mentor, too, regrets his past actions and has taken in a crimson person as a disciple, providing various forms of assistance. I was also helped by him."
[So, because sinners can repent and do good deeds, we should just move on? What about all the people who suffered in the process, those who wouldn't have been harmed if these people had never existed?]
"That's not what I mean."
[If that's not it, then what do you mean?]
"I don’t know!"
Oliver shouted, barely supporting his wrecked body with a quarterstaff.
Joanna was utterly shocked. Had Oliver ever raised his voice before?
"...I’m sorry. I’m foolish and selfish, so I don’t know the answer to that."
Oliver remembered a time when he thought he understood himself, yet felt sorrow not for Nora’s grief, but for his inability to empathize with it.
He had been foolish and selfish. Even now, he still was.
"...All I know is that what you intend to do will burn everything down, leaving nothing behind but ashes and dust. I find that… unpleasant."
[How shameless. You oppose me without even knowing.]
"Yes, I think it’s shameless. However, I believe it’s also wrong to stay silent out of fear of being wrong."
[...]
"So, I will continue to seek answers, to find out if I am right or wrong."
[How audacious, yet interesting.]
"A director at an orphanage taught me that. I think it’s good advice."
Oliver said this, unintentionally glancing at Joanna. Their eyes met.
[If your words turn out to be wrong, what will you do?]
"I guess… I will do my best to correct them."
[It would be wise not to make promises you cannot keep. I will remember your words.]
"Good. That works out well."
Oliver responded without hesitation. The demon fell silent, and Oliver felt a small sense of satisfaction.
It wasn’t because he had silenced the demon, but simply because he had spoken his mind fully.
Though much was still unclear, he felt pleased to have not retreated and expressed his thoughts.
After leaving the mines to learn black magic and wandering the world beyond the family, it seemed his efforts had not been in vain.
The demon looked at him with eyes burning like lightning.
[That was an interesting conversation. Though, in the end, you ignored the evil right before you and acted only for the sake of those close to you.]
Oliver glanced at Joanna. Their eyes met for the second time.
"I won’t deny that. Joanna is also someone who helped me."
Oliver recalled the first time he spoke with Joanna.
She had told him to learn how to live among people and had offered her assistance.
"Also, the sandwiches were delicious."
Oliver said, remembering the sandwiches he had received when leaving the Ark Orphanage. The demon seemed to understand what he meant, which was strange.
‘How does it know?’
As that thought crossed his mind, Oliver summoned all the emotions, life force, and magical power he had stored in a test tube to create an artificial soul.
It was an unusually large amount. The sheer power emanating from his hand proved it.
Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have been able to attempt this, but Oliver controlled it to form a massive artificial soul.
Although it was somewhat lacking in finesse due to its size, the sheer magnitude made up for it.
Without hesitation, Oliver used the artificial soul to craft a Black Suit that covered his entire body.
But that wasn’t all. He donned a conspicuous cloak visible from afar, transformed his legs to resemble those of a horse, and used black magic to bind his quarterstaff and a blood-stained dagger together to create a spear.
A spear with a crimson blade stained with his own blood.
It looked far more impressive than expected—truly satisfying.
[Do you think you can face me with just that?]
"You won't know until you try."
Oliver replied, knowing he had no other choice. He still had one Filgaret left, but had already realized it would be of no use. Despite the low odds, he had to search for a new approach.
He couldn’t afford to follow a path destined for failure, even if it seemed safer.
Oliver lowered his body, while the burned one stood still.
Bang!
Just before Oliver launched himself forward, he detonated the Black Suit enveloping his body, releasing a brilliant flash.
The explosion, fueled by the artificial soul, briefly swallowed up the demon's fiery light. Oliver didn’t miss the opportunity and leaned forward, sprinting at full speed.
With the first step, the surroundings shook, stretching horizontally by the second step. By the third, everything thinned to mere threads, and with a final burst of acceleration from his toes, all that remained was the burned one before him.
Oliver hurled the spear with its blood-red blade at the target with overwhelming speed.
Thwack!
It was pierced.
The demon’s elongated, charred arm had extended and thrust deep into Oliver’s chest, growing longer than the spear and stabbing him first.
Oliver remained silent. The burned one seemed to smile as he spoke.
[Did you plan this from the beginning?]
With those words, the Black Suit wrapping Oliver's body unraveled, revealing the shadow within, which then transformed into hundreds of tentacles that coiled around the demon’s arm and spread across its entire body.
It was the technique of Eternal Child Pan, called the Fisherman’s Maw.
Thud.
Something stabbed into the back of the demon entangled in the shadow’s grasp.
Emerging from the shadow, Oliver had taken hold of his opponent from behind, plunging his right hand through its back.
The smell of burning flesh wafted from his scorched hand, accompanied by rising smoke and a wave of excruciating pain.
"Ugh…!"
It felt like sticking his hand into the flames of hell.
Amid the indescribable agony, Oliver struggled to stay conscious.
"It wasn’t planned..."
Oliver focused on drawing out his life force into his burned hand, while simultaneously extracting an indefinable energy—whether it was the demon’s emotions, life force, or something else.
It felt like grasping magma with his bare hand, so intensely hot and wild that it defied description.
Fortunately, the demon remained still while caught in the shadow’s grasp, which made Oliver wonder.
Was the burned one immobilized due to the Fisherman’s Maw’s power, which grew stronger when the opponent was deceived, or was it allowing Oliver to continue for some other reason?
He couldn’t dwell on this question for long.
An immense energy surged into his hand, accompanied by searing pain, and the demon spoke—this time, not with a resonating voice, but in a real, tangible tone.
A voice both sweet and full of suffering.
“Noble being. Your efforts are admirable, but ultimately, you cannot stop me because you do not understand the pain of the crimson ones. It is ignorance.”
“I understand.”
Oliver clung to consciousness despite the burning agony, as blood poured from the seven orifices of his face and his internal organs trembled.
Even amidst the agony, he continued to extract.
“No, you don’t. But one day, you will. As if it were engraved in your very bones.”
“...Is this a prophecy?”
Oliver kept extracting.
“Yes. I wonder if you will be able to endure it.”
“My mentor... said that knowing and learning are more frightening than one might think.”
Oliver felt his flesh burning away and his bones turning to ash. It still wasn’t enough.
“Your mentor taught you well. To know is to suffer.”
“Still, I will continue to seek knowledge... So please, give me more time. Then, I will find a better answer.”
“Can you promise that?”
“I promise.”
The demon asked, and Oliver answered without hesitation. It seemed as if the demon was smiling.
“Very well. I shall wait. Let’s see what choice you make and whether you will become someone I acknowledge.”
It was no idle statement. At that moment, the power in Oliver’s hand reached its limit. Only then did he belatedly realize the obvious question he should have asked.
“Why are you so interested in me?”
The burned one lightly shook off the shadow grasping its head, turning it 180 degrees. It had indeed been going easy on him.
“You will find out. Whether you want to or not. Great one.”
The response was ominous and unclear. Oliver responded in turn.
“Burn.”
At his command, an immense burst of flame erupted from within the demon's body, originating from Oliver’s hand.
A towering pillar of white flame shot up, bleaching the world around them.
The inferno threatened to consume the city, and those who witnessed it risked being reduced to pillars of salt.
...
White flames exploded from inside the burned one, bursting forth from the cracks in its body.
The blazing fire scorched its already charred form, causing massive fractures in its flesh and shattering its exterior.
The demon’s body gradually crumbled.
Eventually, the kindling-like form cracked open, and the white flames surged, ascending into the sky like a giant pillar of fire.
The fire burned away the darkness and bleached the world with its color.
A world turned white.
The flames, leaving behind not even ashes, were fleeting as a moment, yet stretched on like an eternity. But as with all things, it eventually came to an end.
The white flames slowly faded, and the world, once bleached, began to regain its original color.
The fire that seemed as though it would leave nothing behind vanished like a lie, leaving Oliver staggering on his feet.
He had survived the flames of disaster. Miraculously, aside from the bleaching of his right hair and some minor burns across his body, he was unharmed.
Though his right arm remained charred, those who had seen the pillar of fire would call even that a miracle. Oliver included.
Yet, he could not even recognize or rejoice in that miracle.
For the burned one stood there, exhaling smoke from the wounds on its body.
Its cracked mouth spoke.
“That hurt a little.”
“Oh, my God.”
Oliver uttered those final words before losing consciousness.