Chapter 526: The Dense Forest (3)
"Greetings, Lucien. It’s been a while. I’m glad to see you’re safe."
Oliver, riding on his Corpse Puppet - Werewolf, greeted Lucien, who lay collapsed on the ground. Judging by the scattered corpses around him, it seemed he had been in quite a tight spot.
"Torn armor like paper, people contaminated with disease... similar in style to the Flesh Chef, perhaps?"
Oliver mused as he examined the surroundings. The condition of the corpses indicated that the dark sorcerer who had just been here wasn’t an ordinary one.
"Though there’s something more concerning here..."
Oliver pushed the curiosity to the back of his mind without fixating on it, controlling the Corpse Puppet - Werewolf to crouch down as he dismounted. Normally, he left the control of the Corpse Puppets to Child, so this level of micromanagement was nearly new to him, but it wasn’t as challenging as expected.
Since he had learned how to control a Corpse Puppet like a marionette, he found it tricky yet doable. With a little practice, he could potentially control multiple Corpse Puppets in real-time.
"Then I’ll be able to use them in more versatile ways."
As Oliver was evaluating himself, Lucien spoke up.
"Zenon? Is that you, Zenon? You look quite different again."
"Excuse me? What do you mean...?"
"Your hair. It looks cool."
Though he initially didn’t understand, Oliver quickly realized and touched his bleached hair. This was his first reunion with Lucien after his encounter with the Flesh Chef. His hair had been bleached white on one side, and he now bore bandages on his right arm—a slight change from his past appearance.
"I’ve been through a few things."
"It looks that way. But I’m relieved... I thought my intuition had dulled, but I suppose not."
"I’m not sure what you mean?"
"I mean, it’s good to see you again, Zenon."
With an innocent reply, Oliver responded appropriately.
"Thank you for saying so... But I’m here as Dave this time. A fixer from Landa."
"Is that so? Then I’ll call you Dave... Forgive me, but Dave, would you help me up? I nearly died just now, and my body is still too weak."
Lucien reached out cheekily, requesting assistance to stand.
In truth, he could have managed on his own, but he asked deliberately, with a particular intent in mind.
Fortunately, Oliver, as Lucien had anticipated, offered a polite hand, helping him up. From his response time, movements, gaze, and demeanor, Lucien assessed that Oliver harbored no malice or hidden intentions.
Those with dark motives often revealed themselves in subtle ways.
As Lucien firmly took Oliver’s hand and stood, he commented with a grin.
"Oh, you’re strong! You lifted me right up."
"That’s probably due to exercise."
"You exercise?"
Lucien tilted his head in surprise. Given how gaunt Oliver looked—even accounting for the aftermath of his battle with the Flesh Chef—exercise didn’t seem likely.
However, as a merchant, Lucien let that minor detail slide.
"It seems you work out quite a bit. Anyway, thank you for the help... By the way, did you come here specifically to find me?"
Oliver nodded.
"Yes. How did you know?"
"I’m quite perceptive. Now that we’re talking, let me take a guess. You’re looking for a partner to help find the Flesh Chef’s legacy, aren’t you?"
Lucien made a sharp assumption.
Though he hadn’t known Oliver long, he had gathered some insights from his reputation and from Jane’s stories.
Unlike most exceptional fixers, Oliver didn’t seem to prepare for everything perfectly.
Specifically, he wasn’t shy about seeking external help for detailed information that required significant effort.
In such cases, he could be vulnerable, but as he seemed less concerned about money than expected, it rarely bothered him.
So, it seemed likely that he was here to find information about the Flesh Chef’s legacy—in other words, to seek an ally.
"Ah, sorry. That’s not it. I already have someone I’m working with."
A prediction that missed the mark. Lucien scratched his cheek, feeling a bit embarrassed.
"Well, this is awkward... But where are they? I only see you and… this creatively modified Werewolf."
The Werewolf, modified with reins and a saddle, snorted out a breath of white mist.
"They left me here and suddenly disappeared. So, I have no idea where this place is or what’s happening."
"I don’t know who they are, but they don’t seem like a reliable partner. Leaving you alone... If you don’t mind, why not join forces with me? I could really use some help right now."
"I appreciate the offer, but I owe that person a great deal. I can’t decide on my own."
Oliver recalled how Ewan had once saved Kent from the hands of the Enjoyment faction.
Lucien’s face reflected disappointment, mixed with incomprehension. It made sense—such loyalty was unusual in this field.
"Well, that’s precisely why I offered to partner with you. Hmm... I didn’t come alone, so I can’t share everything, but I’ll at least give you the basics: where we are and what’s going on."
"Really?"
"Yes, since it’s basic information, it’s not a secret. Besides, you helped us before."
Lucien recalled how Oliver had assisted him and Jane during the chaos the Flesh Chef had caused in Laville.
Moreover, it served as a kind of insurance. Offering help now might mean Oliver could be of assistance in the future, given his nature. Still, he didn’t mention that part aloud.
"Thank you so much for the help. If it’s not too much trouble, would you mind waiting a bit? I need to organize a few things before we move on, now that I have help."
Oliver gestured toward the direction he had come from.
Lucien instinctively followed Oliver’s gaze, focusing his magical energy in his eyes. From far away, he could see a horde of over a hundred zombies approaching.
"Zombies. And they’re from Bay."
"You know him?"
"Yes, Bay the Bomb Merchant. Quite a notorious dark sorcerer here in Gallos. He sells suicide zombies to criminals like us or anti-social organizations. I didn’t expect him to be here as well."
Lucien’s face briefly showed shock and concern. When Oliver asked the reason, Lucien’s response was surprising.
"There are rumors that he’s Puppet’s disciple."
"Puppet... You mean Puppet the Eternal?"
"Yes. Many who handle Corpse Puppets claim to be Puppet’s disciples, but Bay’s case is different. Even while the Flesh Chef was alive, Bay didn’t defer to him, so it’s likely true. It seems Puppet has a genuine interest in the Flesh Chef’s legacy after all..."
Lucien’s worry deepened.
And rightly so. Puppet was on par with the Flesh Chef.
What’s more, given the nature of manipulation-based dark magic, Puppet could be an even more challenging adversary.
Manipulation-based dark magic required extensive resources and knowledge. Conversely, with adequate resources and knowledge, it could yield immense power.
Moreover, if the rumors were correct, Puppet’s organization was larger than the Flesh Chef’s.
For someone like that to deploy a disciple to pursue the Flesh Chef’s legacy? Truthfully, it was as if the victor was already decided.
"Can we even compete?"
Oliver recalled his past encounter with Puppet in the Contaminated Zone.
Puppet had attempted to exploit the fixers who entered to cleanse the zone for his research, with meticulous planning.
He had used a hidden army of zombies to corner people, then incited division by strategically placing Corpse Puppets, steering everyone to his will.
While Oliver had eventually caught on, he hadn’t felt like he’d won.
After all, he’d still ended up venturing underground, exactly as Puppet had intended.
"...And that was the first time I fought Puppet."
Oliver remembered Puppet’s ability to manipulate corpses like clay and the artificial souls he was developing in his research.
Through a series of coincidences, Oliver had narrowly escaped Puppet’s grasp. But as with before, he didn’t feel as though he’d truly won.
At the time, the Puppet he fought was merely a fraction of his full power—Oliver was sure of it.
Hence, the question lingered. If Oliver were to face Puppet again now, could he win?
Oliver reasoned that he could at least give it a try, having faced both the Flesh Chef and Pan. Still, he was hesitant to make a definitive call.
Was it intuition? A hunch? Whatever it was, he couldn’t shake the uncertainty.
"Hmm, Dave... How about we fall back for now? We haven’t even reached the Flesh Chef’s legacy, yet we’re already about to clash with Puppet’s side. This doesn’t seem wise."
Watching the zombies draw close enough to be seen by the naked eye, Lucien suggested a retreat.
Given his recent losses in manpower from the Werewolf battle, it was a natural decision.
However, rather than agreeing, Lucien’s words reminded Oliver of something.
If he kept retreating like this, he’d never even reach the Flesh Chef’s legacy.
It was obvious. If everyone else was fighting desperately, and he was not, it was only natural for him to be left behind.
Understanding the situation, Oliver steeled himself and extracted his emotions from the vial.
"Dave?"
"Apologies. No matter how I think about it, it seems best to handle this here and now. I tried to shake them off earlier, but they kept following me. Unless we leave this place with spatial magic, they’ll keep coming after us."
Lucien was speechless—not because of the content of Oliver’s words, but because of the conviction he could hear in his voice. Clearly, Oliver had his own reasons.
Just as Oliver was about to move, someone with immense power rapidly approached from behind. Before Oliver could fully turn around, the sound of gunfire erupted.
Drrrrrrrrrr━━!!
Dozens of firearms echoed through the air, firing holy power-infused bullets that rained down like lasers. Hundreds of rounds poured out in a second, drawing golden trails as they struck the zombies sprinting toward them like hunting hounds.
The holy bullets were astonishingly effective, not only penetrating and downing the zombies but also disintegrating surrounding areas to ashes, erasing the undead almost instantly.
It was akin to erasing a pencil drawing with an eraser, so much so that concepts like "numbers" and "forces" felt meaningless.
Sensing that the situation had turned dire, the dark sorcerer controlling the zombies tried to trigger their self-destruction to release toxic fumes, but the holy bullets purified the gas before it could spread.
It was as if nothing had happened at all.
Whiiiiiiiing...
The gunfire ceased as the ammunition ran out, leaving an empty whirring sound. But it didn’t matter. All the zombies had already turned to ash and vanished.
In the span of only two or three seconds, a large number of zombies had been annihilated. Awestruck by the sight, Oliver turned around.
Standing there was a man clad entirely in steel armor and a long steel coat, wielding an enormous gatling gun on one arm.
"Greetings. ...Are you, by any chance, a Holy Knight?"
Though he had already seen it for himself, Oliver couldn’t help but ask again for confirmation.
It was surprising enough to see a Holy Knight in a place teeming with people after the Flesh Chef’s legacy, and it seemed he was also acquainted with Lucien, which was equally unusual.
Perhaps understanding Oliver’s thoughts, Lucien offered a friendly explanation.
"Yes, he’s indeed a Holy Knight. The royal family was kind enough to send support. It’s a bit of a long story, so why don’t we head inside and discuss it?"
At Lucien’s suggestion, Oliver silently looked over at the steel-masked Holy Knight.
Seeing a Holy Knight with a member of the Milieu organization was strange enough, but to find him alongside a dark sorcerer was even more extraordinary.
Oliver wasn’t sure if the Holy Knight would agree to this, but to his surprise, the knight met Oliver’s gaze, understanding his unspoken question. The Holy Knight then turned his gatling gun into particles of light, which faded away, and he addressed Oliver directly.
"If you’re coming, you’re welcome to join us."
Surprisingly, he meant it sincerely.