Chapter 520: Lord of the Wastelands (3)
"Are you familiar with the Great Catastrophe?"
Bartholomew, leading the way, asked the question.
Oliver, following him, observed the scenery of Zone Z and responded.
"I don’t know the details, but I understand it was the starting point for the current state of Landa."
A precise answer, hitting the core. Bartholomew nodded silently.
Ironically, the Great Catastrophe that led to Landa’s downfall also served as the beginning of a new form of the Free City of Landa. If it hadn’t devastated and contaminated this land, the kingdom would never have granted them autonomy in exchange for development.
"However, I don’t really know why the Great Catastrophe occurred, nor what exactly it entailed."
As they reached the inner parts of Zone Z, Oliver added his thoughts.
The inner areas were strewn with buildings that appeared to have once been grand estates. Although the passage of time and calamities had faded their appearance beyond recognition, Oliver instinctively sensed that this place was once a thriving area.
“It’s only natural. Just as you can’t hide the sky with your hand, you can’t entirely conceal the Great Catastrophe itself. But the details? Those are another story entirely... Why it happened and what it truly was—that can be hidden and distorted through countless lies.”
This time, Oliver nodded in agreement.
After all, hiding a speck of truth beneath a mountain of lies was a common tactic practiced regularly in Landa.
It was intriguing, somehow. That the intrigues within Landa, responsible for concealing so many secrets, even veiled the history behind the Great Catastrophe that brought Landa into existence... utterly fascinating.
“By the way, are all the members of the Development Opposition Committee generally this shy?”
Oliver asked, noticing people hiding in various parts of the dilapidated buildings.
They all had their bodies wrapped in bandages, just like the members of other Development Opposition Committees he’d encountered before. Some were so deformed that even through the bandages, their twisted forms were visible—more reminiscent of beasts than humans, like lizards or dogs.
“It’s been a while since they’ve allowed outsiders in, so they must feel embarrassed.”
Bartholomew casually brushed off the question as they stopped in front of a ruined building.
The ruin was the remains of a giant collapsed structure, and sitting in front of it was an Ogre-Man, one of the many kinds of mutants.
Like others from the Development Opposition Committee, the Ogre-Man was thoroughly wrapped in bandages.
“Open it up.”
At Bartholomew's command, the Ogre-Man rose from where he sat. He was about one and a half times the size of a typical Ogre-Man. Oliver wondered if his size was due to a unique trait, or perhaps to the peculiar yet familiar energy emanating from beneath.
"Grrrrrnnngh!"
As Oliver pondered, the Ogre-Man used his tree-trunk-thick arms to dig his fingers beneath the ruin and lifted it with ease.
A hidden underground entrance was revealed beneath the rubble.
Once the entrance was exposed, Bartholomew descended naturally, with Oliver following close behind without hesitation.
Step by step, they walked down a dim underground passage.
"By any chance, do you know anything about Landa before the Great Catastrophe?"
"No, not really."
Oliver created a magical light source to illuminate their surroundings as he answered. Though old, the underground did not seem like a mere sewer system.
The sophisticated interior design was evidence of that. The walls were lined with vintage shields, swords, armor, and portraits with faces marred or scratched beyond recognition. It was curious to consider what this place had once been.
“Landa was prosperous before the Great Catastrophe, though its appearance was quite different from now. It was strictly hierarchical.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, it was one of the royal family’s directly controlled territories, so it was only natural. All lands belonged to the royal family, and powerful nobles who sought royal favor gathered here. It was practically the kingdom’s second capital, though with a different meaning than now.”
“... By the royal family, do you mean the one that currently governs the United Kingdom?”
Oliver asked, addressing a question that had been on his mind for a while.
“That’s correct. Landa’s Great Catastrophe occurred only a few decades ago. It was even led by someone who had a higher succession rank than the current queen.”
Bartholomew’s response caused Oliver to nod indifferently, even though he had just heard an incredibly shocking and surprising tale—that the country’s royals and powerful nobles had caused the Great Catastrophe by trading with demons just a few decades ago.
But he couldn’t help it. He had already heard similar stories before.
There were rumors about Edward X, the current successor to the kingdom’s throne, worshiping demons—a fact he’d learned a few years ago during a mission outside the city involving dealings with the Kel Liberation Army.
So, it wasn’t too surprising that something similar might have occurred in Landa a few decades prior.
Although several decades might feel long for an individual, from a historical perspective, it was but a fleeting moment.
Still, he had some questions.
“Mr. Bartholomew, may I ask you a question?”
“Please do.”
“If it was only a few decades ago, wouldn’t that have been around the time the United Kingdom was entering its golden age? I read newspapers and history books from time to time.”
“That’s right. It was just beginning to enter the Age of Victory.”
“Then, what made you decide to deal with demons? What exactly did you hope to gain?”
Oliver asked with genuine confusion, as he truly didn’t understand.
The kingdom was on the cusp of its Age of Victory, and the royal family and nobles must have shared in that success. They were the ruling class, positioned to benefit more than anyone else.
The hoards of treasures he had glimpsed earlier served as proof enough.
But why would they seek more by making deals with demons? Oliver couldn’t comprehend it at all.
To this, Bartholomew provided an answer.
“It might sound insane to you, but dealing with demons doesn’t always require a desperate reason.”
“I don’t think it sounds crazy. I just don’t feel qualified to judge... I’m simply curious. What compelled you to trade with demons?”
Bartholomew paused, pondering deeply, before replying with a slight tilt of his head.
“Hmm... perhaps, to erase the wrinkles on our faces or regain our vitality down there?”
“Pardon?”
Oliver blinked and repeated in a dazed tone. It was a story too baffling to make sense of.
“Oh... were you joking?”
“No, I was being completely serious.”
Bartholomew’s sincere expression left Oliver visibly startled.
Trading with demons over wrinkles and vitality?
“Does that sound unreasonable?”
“To be completely honest... yes, it does.”
“What if you looked at it differently? For example, think about the elixir of blood.”
“Elixir of blood?”
“Yes. To retain youth and vitality, one might consume condensed human blood and life force... Isn’t that, in its own way, a loathsome act?”
“Oh…”
Oliver nodded unconsciously in agreement. While he didn’t necessarily find it detestable, he did consider it somewhat wasteful.
Since he himself regularly manufactured elixirs of blood for Edith, he understood better than anyone the vast amount of blood and life force required to make those crimson pills.
Considering the frequent appeals in newspapers to donate blood due to shortages, he couldn’t help but view it as wasteful, though Edith’s case involved her health and survival.
“Besides that, people made deals with demons to relieve back pain, treat toothaches, improve sleep, enhance bedroom pleasures, combat obesity, and even extend their lifespan.”
“... That’s quite a shocking story.”
Oliver recalled the Burnt One he encountered in the New World. He never imagined they would make such deals.
“Deals with demons are like that by nature. They’re unpredictable and have a mind of their own. Demons always hold the upper hand.”
“Hmm... and did you continue making such deals?”
“Of course. It’s only hard the first time; it gets easier afterward. Plus, we had plenty to offer.”
Bartholomew displayed a difficult-to-define look, filled with complex emotions based on regret.
He seemed to both deny his regrets while simultaneously regretting them, a mess of self-loathing and selfishness tangling together in a way that was dizzying to observe.
“But there was one thing we missed. The easier you attain what you desire, the more your thirst intensifies—like drinking seawater. Easy desires fuel even greater desires, which then grow more extreme and twisted.”
More extreme and twisted...
“Did you ultimately achieve those desires?”
"...You could say that."
Bartholomew looked at his hand, radiating both sincerity and regret.
"Did you ever actually meet a demon during the process?”
“I’m not sure. There was so much going on back then... Ah, was that the main point of your question?”
As Bartholomew, who had been leading them ever deeper underground, stopped in his tracks, he turned to Oliver.
Even though his bandage-covered face left only his mouth visible, Oliver felt as if Bartholomew’s gaze was piercing right through him.
Oliver didn’t bother denying it.
“It wasn’t the only reason I asked, but yes, I was personally curious.”
“Because of your right arm?”
Bartholomew subtly glanced at Oliver’s bandaged right arm.
Oliver had never shown it, so he assumed no one would know. But Bartholomew was aware that his arm had been scorched by a demon.
“... Something like that.”
Oliver recalled the mysterious hand that had once appeared over Mary’s head.
That hand had granted Mary an abnormal level of power, and the main reason Oliver was here was to understand its nature.
Although he was curious about the Development Opposition Committee as well, that was a secondary concern.
“That’s... a bit disappointing.”
Bartholomew spoke sincerely, and Oliver apologized.
“Sorry, there’s just been a lot happening recently.”
Oliver thought of both the Burnt One he’d met in the New World and his recent encounter with Lilith.
The Burnt One, who had referred to himself as a noble being, and Lilith, who had questioned his very identity...
Though he had momentarily pushed aside those questions, he hadn’t truly forgotten them, even if he wanted to.
‘Just as I haven’t forgotten when Bartholomew, a former noble and royal himself, once called me a great being…’
Oliver wanted to ask about that mystery, but he hesitated.
Bartholomew had once told him it wasn’t a question he could answer... or perhaps it was something else. Perhaps Oliver’s inability to ask was rooted in fear. Though he couldn’t be sure, it was a likely possibility.
After all, every time he considered that question, he wanted to look away.
Surrounded by swirling speculations, suspicions, and an unsettling feeling, Oliver shook his head.
It wasn’t an urgent matter, so he set it aside once more.
More pressing was Mary’s situation.
Through the unidentified hand, she’d used World Tree ideà to manifest reality. Mary had grown so powerful in an instant that she could even rival Lilith.
Honestly, he should have noticed sooner—from the very first time he’d reunited with Mary. Her rapid increase in strength had been peculiar from the start.
Upon returning to Landa, Oliver had examined Mary’s physical condition and found no significant strain, yet he resolved to investigate further.
Such overwhelming power from an unknown, suspicious source warranted scrutiny.
As soon as he clarified his intentions, Oliver brought up the main subject.
“So, I wanted to ask if you happen to possess any demon-related books? If only because—”
“A demon-related book? That’s a foolish request.”
A third voice suddenly interrupted. Shockingly, it wasn’t coming from either end of the corridor but from the wall itself.
When Oliver and Bartholomew turned, they saw cracks forming along the wall.
With a resounding crash, the wall shattered, and from the gap, with the blue sky as a backdrop, someone appeared.
It was none other than Ewan Bremner.
Smith’s mentor, the creator of Big Mouth, an ingenious craftsman capable of conjuring miraculous items, a shrewd bargainer who once traded a cow for magical beans, and, notably, a renowned debtor.
He appeared wielding a battering ram with a human head on it, emerging through the wall.
‘Is that battering ram some sort of dark magic allowing him to break through space?’
While Oliver analyzed the energy radiating from the battering ram, Ewan stepped through the breached wall. Miraculously, the shattered wall fragments seemed to flow backward, restoring the wall to its original state, as if time were reversing.
A sight more magical than magic itself.
Ewan, gripping the human-headed battering ram, spoke.
“I’ll say it again: that’s a foolish request.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“It’s foolish to ask these people to lend you a demon-related book. All their demon-related books disappeared when the Great Catastrophe struck. I know because I tried to steal them and failed.”
Oliver instinctively looked to Bartholomew, who nodded without a word.
Whether he was confirming that the demon-related books were indeed gone or acknowledging Ewan’s past theft attempt, it was unclear.
“But don’t be disappointed. Lucky for you, I, being ridiculously generous, have an insanely good offer. Consider it your lucky day.”
“I’m not sure I understand?”
“You need a demon-related book, don’t you?”
Ewan pointed a finger at Oliver, as if prodding him.
“Yes, though it’s more of a personal—”
“Ah! Spare me the details. I couldn’t care less. I’m just here for business. A mature exchange where we both get what we want.”
Though abrupt and chaotic, Ewan’s proposal was sincere. Oliver felt a spark of interest.
“What is this proposal?”
“It’s simple. Join me in going to Gallos to raid the Flesh Chef’s legacy!”
Ewan raised the battering ram with the human head high. As he did, an eye on the crushed head fell out and dangled...