Chapter 492: The Burning City (1)
"Wake up, Hero."
As Oliver emerged from the depths of his unconsciousness, he heard someone speaking to him. "Wake up, Hero," they said.
"General... please..."
"This doesn’t seem right."
A woman’s voice followed shortly after. What on earth were they talking about? Then, an indescribable pain surged from his right arm, piercing through his mind.
"Ugh..."
The pain forced Oliver to gasp for air and brought him back to his senses, even though it hurt terribly.
"He's awake. I saved him!"
A satisfied male voice chimed in. It sounded familiar—Philip.
Philip Roar, the Knight of the Kingdom, a Lieutenant General in the army, an Honorary Grand Master of the Pure Mana School, Headmaster of the Royal Magic Academy, Director of the Royal Magic Research Department, and the head of the Roar family.
With great effort, Oliver opened his eyes.
His eyelids felt as heavy as lead, his eyes dry, and he was greeted by a white ceiling, an overwhelming sense of pain, and fatigue that gripped his entire body. The terrible agony radiating from his right arm sharpened his senses as a flood of sensations surged in.
Amidst it all, he spotted Philip sitting beside him—a lion-like old man with a robust physique that didn’t match his age.
"...Hello, Lieutenant General Philip."
"Hello there. Are you alright?"
"Uh... yes, I’m fine."
"That's impressive. I thought you wouldn’t be okay since a Black Flame Dragon has settled in your arm."
At those words, Oliver instinctively glanced at his right arm, which was tightly bandaged.
As his eyes fell on his arm, the chaos in his mind slowly sorted itself out, and he recalled what had happened.
With clearer memories and an intensified pain, Oliver let out a groan.
Watching him, Philip asked once more.
"Just to be sure, are you okay?"
"It’s... a bit painful."
"It must really hurt then. Well, it’s no ordinary burn."
"An ordinary burn?"
"It’s a burn that even Holy Magic can’t heal. Still, thanks to that, we were able to get you out from under Pater Church's custody. Does it still hurt despite the painkillers?"
Oliver tilted his head. Get me out? What did that mean?... He answered anyway.
"I can’t say about the painkillers, but yes, it still hurts."
"I see."
Philip nodded, a look of concern on his face. He seemed to have some business, but he still showed personal concern, which Oliver appreciated.
"Lieutenant General Philip..."
"Hmm?"
"The Black Flame Dragon... was that some kind of wizard's joke?"
At the unexpected question, Philip's expression briefly showed amusement before he burst out laughing. He then turned to the female military mages behind him.
"See that? Now, that’s a real man. Even pain can be something to enjoy. Another word for it would be 'madman.' I like it."
The female mages, bewildered by Philip’s remark, stared blankly. At that moment, Oliver called out to Philip again.
"Lieutenant General Philip."
"I’ll answer your questions later. For now, just rest. The doctor is on his way."
"Thank you. But that’s not it. I wanted to ask about the knight... Is Sir Joanna okay?"
The question seemed to catch Philip off guard.
"Oh, that’s—"
- Knock. Knock.
Just as Philip was about to reply, there was a knock at the door.
The two female mages behind him immediately assumed a defensive stance and opened the door, revealing two men in priestly robes standing outside.
"Ah... you’ve come quickly."
Philip’s expression turned sour with displeasure and vigilance as he looked at the priests. One of them smiled.
"The servants of the divine do not indulge in idleness."
...
The two unexpected priests introduced themselves with grandiose words.
Due to his exhaustion and pain, Oliver couldn’t grasp everything they were saying, but it seemed they were there to check on him, with some additional matters to discuss.
Although Oliver’s foggy mind made it difficult for him to think, Philip expressed displeasure on his behalf.
"To question a patient who has just woken up... isn’t that a bit too urgent, priest?"
"I apologize for that, Lieutenant General... but considering the gravity of the situation, we ask for your understanding. You’re aware of the current state of the city, aren’t you?"
The state of the city? Despite his muddled mind, Oliver focused.
Now that he thought about it, The Burnt One had declared that he would burn the city to ashes. Oliver had failed to stop it.
Had the city actually burned? No... that didn’t seem right.
If the city had been completely engulfed in flames, it wouldn’t make sense for him to be lying in a hospital room, nor for Philip to be unharmed. If the demon had achieved its goal, everything would have been reduced to ashes.
"Lieutenant General, I don’t understand why you’re obstructing us. This could lead to a serious misunderstanding."
As Oliver pondered, the priest, still wearing a smile, subtly threatened Philip. Philip responded with a smile of his own.
"A misunderstanding? What do you mean by that?"
"...."
"Dave or Zenon. This young man is a mage affiliated with the Tower of Magic and is under my personal employment. He’s also injured. Why would it be considered a misunderstanding for me to be concerned about his condition?"
"That wasn’t what I meant."
"And what exactly did you mean?"
"..."
"More importantly, you just mentioned the city's state? That was helpful because I hardly know anything about it. A massive fire has consumed a quarter of the city, leaving many dead, and even a prince was at risk. Yet, no information has been shared with us... As much as I understand that Pater Church has certain privileges, don’t you think it’s a bit excessive?"
Using his logic, eloquence, and imposing presence, Philip countered the priests who had come to question Oliver.
Judging by his tone and actions, it was evident that Philip personally held a strong dislike for Pater Church.
The tension thickened in the air. Oliver spoke up.
"Lieutenant General Philip."
"What is it?"
"I’m fine. I can answer the priests’ questions."
"...Are you sure?"
"Yes."
After asking once more, Philip withdrew without further resistance when Oliver affirmed his readiness. It was a gesture of trust and consideration.
As Philip and his companions left, the room quieted, leaving only Oliver and the two priests.
The priests exchanged uneasy glances at Oliver’s voluntary decision to let Philip step back, but they quickly composed themselves and formally greeted him. Oliver returned the courtesy.
"Thank you for your kind reception despite your condition. We apologize again for the sudden intrusion."
"It’s fine... But it seems something major happened in the city. What exactly occurred?"
Oliver asked. He had allowed them in because he was curious, too.
"Don’t you remember?"
"I blacked out in the middle of it. My mind is still a bit muddled."
That was true. Too many things had happened—going into the abandoned mine, meeting Pan, encountering a demon, and experiencing Filgaret's life through Duncan. Then, he had lost consciousness.
"...Did I eat the cookie?"
Oliver’s head spun. While he felt like he would recover after enough rest, it wasn’t the case for now.
The priests, though suspicious, didn’t push the matter as Oliver’s condition was obviously poor.
The first priest, a bookish man with little muscle, spoke up.
"Then I’ll keep it brief."
"Alright."
"Do you remember how you lost consciousness?"
"I passed out while fighting The Burnt One."
Oliver answered without hesitation.
"Is that the demon you encountered?"
"Yes."
The priests exchanged glances before one asked again.
"...Can you describe its appearance?"
Oliver winced at the throbbing sensation in his arm and responded.
"Hmm... It looked like a person on fire. And it was very powerful."
"Powerful, you say?"
"Yes."
Oliver’s responses were short and concise. The Burnt One was indeed formidable.
It had incinerated Pinkman with a single breath, disregarded Holy Magic, and turned people into salt pillars that shattered at a mere gaze or voice. Even dark magic had no effect.
Honestly, it was questionable whether "powerful" was an apt description.
The term "powerful" applied to beings with whom one could actually contend in battle, and that was not the case for Oliver.
"Frankly, if it hadn’t held back, the fight wouldn’t have happened at all."
In any case, Oliver succinctly explained the demon’s power and its immunity to all forms of magic.
"The Holy Knight's spells didn’t work, and my own efforts were in vain."
"I see... Mr. Dave, there is something important we need to tell you, so please listen carefully."
"...? Go ahead."
"What you saw was not a demon."
"...Excuse me?"
Oliver replied a beat late, doubting what he heard.
"I'll say it again. What you saw was not a demon."
"...I'm sorry, but I’m certain I saw a demon."
"No, you did not."
The priest's reply was firm, and Oliver tilted his head, unable to follow the conversation.
The priest continued speaking.
"You were unconscious for the past three days, Mr. Dave."
"Three days?"
"Yes. After the Holy Knight Joanna carried you out, you remained unconscious until now. During that time, she explained what had happened."
"What did she say?"
"She mentioned that the Eternal Child, Pan, performed a ritual of malevolent curse."
Oliver frowned at this. A ritual of malevolent curse... It wasn’t entirely wrong, but it wasn’t exactly right, either.
"Then, what exactly did I see?"
"It was likely a dream."
The second priest, who had remained silent until now, interjected. Unlike the slender first priest, this one had a bulky physique and an aura of vitality.
"Given that you were unconscious for three days, it’s not surprising you might confuse dreams with reality."
Without a word, Oliver raised his burned right arm.
"...That wound is said to have been caused by Pan."
"I apologize, but even in my current muddled state, I can still distinguish dreams from reality."
"That’s not the important part. What matters is that the Holy Knight stated this, and Pater Church has reached the same conclusion."
Now, Oliver understood what the priests were implying. They intended to cover up the fact that a demon had appeared.
But why hide such a crucial truth?
"Is that why you came to see me?"
"Yes. We also have a request regarding this matter."
"What is it?"
"We ask that you keep silent about what you saw or believed to be a dream."
"Why should I? It was just a dream, wasn’t it?"
"To prevent chaos."
"Chaos?"
"Yes. Earlier, you asked if something major happened in the city."
"Yes."
"There was indeed a major event. Starting from the day you entered the abandoned mine, the water across the city turned red, swarms of frogs appeared, and a massive fire broke out, particularly affecting the residential and industrial areas."
The second priest paused before continuing.
"As a result, there have been numerous casualties and displaced people in the city, leading to a chaotic situation. Conspiracy theories are spreading, fueling panic and fear. If someone were to claim they saw a demon, this city would turn into hell."
Hmm, that explanation was plausible. Especially since it was entirely true.
"That’s why we are making this request. It’s not for free. We’ve heard about your efforts during the mission. You will be rewarded accordingly. However..."
"However?"
"If you recklessly speak of your dream, we will consider it an act of incitement and defamation against Pater Church, and we’ll be forced to take appropriate measures... Will you accept our request?"
Oliver looked into the priest's eyes and felt the underlying emotions. Though it was framed as a request, it was partly a threat. If they could, they seemed ready to act against him immediately.
After a moment’s thought, Oliver spoke.
"May I make a request of my own?"
"A request...? What is it?"
"May I see the knight, Sir Joanna? I’m concerned about her safety."
"Why are you concerned?"
"My mission was to assist the Holy Knight. I want to confirm if I fulfilled my duty properly."
Oliver spoke plainly, as his reason for entering the abandoned mine had indeed been to assist the Holy Knight.
The priests seemed taken aback by his unexpected request, but after exchanging glances, they nodded.
...
Footsteps echoed through the white marble hallway as a priest walked forward.
He served in the Saint Hall, and after passing a massive sculpture, he stopped in front of a gold-adorned door.
The priest composed himself and prepared to knock, but before he could, a commanding voice came from beyond the door.
"Come in."
The voice seemed aware of his presence already, though it wasn’t surprising, considering who was on the other side of the door—one of the leaders who effectively ran Pater Church.
"Your Excellency."
The priest opened the door and stepped inside.
There, against the backdrop of a grand mural depicting angels banishing demons and pagan gods, sat a large, bald man.
His name was Roderick Bor, current High Priest of Pater Church, Treasurer of the Saint Hall, and a former Holy Knight.
He was, as usual, waging a war against a mountain of paperwork.
"A report has arrived from the New World. The fixer has awakened and has agreed to our request."
The fixer in question was none other than Dave Light from District T of Landa.
Despite the importance of the matter, Roderick showed no signs of surprise or joy. It was all just a step in a grand plan, and there was no room for emotional responses. Nevertheless, it was fortunate things had gone smoothly.
Roderick continued working on the documents. The priest leaned in and whispered.
"Your Excellency, may I speak freely?"
"Go ahead."
Despite the overwhelming workload and busy situation, Roderick allowed the priest to speak, as loyalty could sometimes be cultivated with just a few words rather than material rewards.
"Thank you for permitting me, Your Excellency... Wouldn’t it be better to eliminate him outright instead of making uncertain requests?"
The priest lowered his voice, suggesting they dispose of Dave. Though likely said out of loyalty, it was a foolish remark. For a regular priest to propose assassination showed that courage often sprang from ignorance.
"There's no need. I’ve looked into the fixer, Dave. His success rate is 100%, and he’s known to be reliable. If he agreed to our request, he will keep his word."
That was indeed true. After receiving a report from Galahad, Roderick had taken his time to investigate Dave Light through various channels.
He was a mysterious fixer who had suddenly appeared in Landa a few years ago.
Speculations abounded—some said he was associated with the Tower of Magic, while others thought he was an experiment of the Tower. Despite his unknown background, he quickly gained a reputation through his exceptional skills, remarkable work, and solid credibility.
The general consensus was that he was an enigmatic figure. It wasn’t surprising, considering he showed no ambition, greed, or discernible purpose despite navigating Landa’s dangerous underworld, where survival was never guaranteed.
And yet, there were rumors of a different kind emerging recently.
It was said that after killing Landa’s living legend, a druid, he had begun to display genuine ambition.
He had negotiated with the anti-redevelopment committee to redevelop District X, merged an outside organization with the Fighter Crew, and rapidly secured his own power base.
In doing so, he displayed overwhelming prowess, even single-handedly subduing his strongest rival, Enjoyment, which led other factions to surrender without resistance.
From a seemingly aimless fixer to a cunning strategist with ambition—he was an inconsistent and paradoxical figure.
"All the more reason to eliminate him, then. Even if it’s not an assassination, don’t we have enough evidence to arrest him? That cult, for example. With that, we could also take down the old lion of the Roar family who is protecting him."
The priest referred to the special custom-made vehicle left behind by Dave.
Indeed, with that evidence, they could implicate Dave as well as Philip Roar. But now wasn’t the time.
"If we move now, we’d inevitably clash with the royal family, the Tower of Magic, and even Landa... Not to mention that old man. There’s no need to rush things."
"But—"
"—Don't worry. Timing is crucial when it comes to information. Once we get through this moment, the warlock’s statements will be meaningless. Even if not, we can deal with it then. Understood?"
With Roderick’s decisive words, the priest could only nod.
"Yes, Your Excellency."
"By the way, how is Bonifa?"
"He is still undergoing treatment, searching through ancient texts to heal his injuries—"
Roderick stopped his work.
"Ah, not that. Is he still reciting the prayer?"
"Ah... Yes, Your Excellency. He continues to read the prayer on noble sacrifice, emphasizing that sacrifice is truly beautiful, noble, and sometimes necessary."
Roderick resumed his paperwork.
"Good. Make sure he keeps reciting it. Let him grow noble in his own right. To confront demons, we need a true son of angels."