Chapter 533: The Beast (1)
A massive, blackened hand—formed by combining Ptah’s Assistant with Black Suit—followed Oliver’s intent, hurling the quarterstaff forward.
The Red Hood, having been sealed off in mobility by the corpse puppet-werewolf’s blow, was unable to evade this time. The quarterstaff, coated in black magic, struck Red Hood and then sailed through the air, etching a black line before crashing into the dense forest below.
Boom—!!
The quarterstaff plummeted diagonally into the forest like a meteor, kicking up clouds of dirt and ripping through the ground, toppling dozens of trees in its wake.
After shrinking the damaged corpse puppet-werewolf with a miniaturization spell, Oliver tucked it away, reshaping the Black Suit into wings, using them to glide down like a glider, riding the wind.
Thud.
Upon reaching the ground, he surveyed the deep furrows in the earth, the uprooted bushes, the splintered ancient trees, and clouds of dust rising higher than a person’s head—all left as proof of the quarterstaff’s raw power.
Dust clouded the entire area, making it hard to discern direction. Yet amidst this scene, Oliver fixed his gaze on one point and spoke.
“Incredible.”
Clearing the surrounding dust with emotion particles, Oliver spoke again.
As the dust settled, a wolf missing one arm came into view, along with Red Hood and the quarterstaff lying on the ground.
“To reach out with one arm in that brief instant and infuse it with black magic for defense… truly impressive,” Oliver remarked, clearly in awe.
The ambush, which utilized a spatial movement item acquired from Hog, a Road Gang member, through Ilmarinen Workshop, was not simply to distract the wolf-creature. It was also meant to exploit the ambush potential and unpredictable nature of teleportation magic, aiming to subdue Red Hood all at once.
Oliver had predicted that if he weren’t there, Red Hood would have destroyed the corpse puppet-werewolf. At that moment, he would activate the item, launching an attack before Red Hood could react, making the capture swift.
And events had nearly gone exactly as he expected.
But in that split second, Red Hood sacrificed an arm, minimizing the damage and creating an opening to escape.
This reaction was hardly typical of someone overcome with fear. Only someone with exceptional mental resilience could respond like this.
“...It was black magic… Calm… that I cast for myself,” Red Hood said haltingly, in a hoarse voice caught between man and beast.
“I wanted to talk.”
The intent was genuine. Oliver had used Calm to stabilize his mind before the attack, hoping to communicate with Red Hood.
Normally, beasts would seize up in terror at the sight of Oliver’s face; some even self-harmed or displayed physical complications. Missing the chance to speak with a beast capable of conversation would have been a significant loss.
‘Looks like it’s not just able to talk,’ Oliver thought as he observed Red Hood’s left arm, torn in two, reattaching itself.
Parasitic creatures emerged from the shredded edges of the arm, binding flesh and nerve back together.
Stitch, stitch…
It appeared Red Hood had manipulated the parasitic creatures through disease-based black magic, modifying them to coexist symbiotically with the host.
“Impressive skills,” Oliver noted.
“…?”
“The black magician who created you, Red Hood, and even those parasites… it’s not easy to distort the nature of living beings to this extent.”
Oliver spoke based on the knowledge he’d gathered from black magic books and research journals he had studied over time.
While it was relatively simple to use black magic to make a beast fiercer and stronger, or make insects deadlier and more resilient, heightening intelligence or fundamentally altering a creature’s nature required a completely different mechanism.
Just as it was simple to intensify a flame but difficult to make it cold, this, too, required a different approach.
Attempts had been made, but there were no recorded successes—a fact proven by the current lack of examples.
But here was a rare exception before him. Oliver found it thoroughly fascinating.
“And yet, it seems Red Hood does not share that opinion.”
Oliver observed as Red Hood’s face twisted with emotions—disgust, fear, rage, resentment, determination—as he recalled the experiments that had given him intelligence. Apparently, this experience held unpleasant memories for him.
It was understandable. Most black magic experiments inevitably brought horrific pain.
“But isn’t it not so bad?” Oliver continued, slipping into a rare scholarly demeanor. After all, what he faced was merely a beast.
“After all, Red Hood, you’ve gained human intelligence, haven’t you?”
“….”
Red Hood felt humiliated by this comment and fell silent.
Though Oliver had not intended to insult him in any way.
Who would think to insult a beast? It was just a beast.
Oliver’s comment had been based purely on genuine curiosity and admiration.
And yet, Red Hood, the subject, felt nothing but contempt and humiliation.
Such was the divide caused by their differing perspectives: man versus beast—a conflict born from this chasm.
Amusingly, until recently, Red Hood would not have experienced such emotions at all.
Ordinarily, his innate instincts would have left him too terrified of Oliver to feel anything like this. But now, thanks to Calm, Red Hood was able to indulge in a strangely luxurious sense of disgrace as he faced Oliver.
Whether this was a blessing or a curse, it remained unclear, but spurred by these emotions, Red Hood began to speak again, though slowly.
“Did you… chase… me… just for… conversation?”
As Red Hood broke the silence, Oliver responded immediately.
“No. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t my primary reason. I pursued you, Red Hood, for the key.”
With Oliver’s answer, Red Hood acknowledged it.
Here, there could be no other purpose. Although, it was odd that such a being would covet the Flesh Chef’s legacy.
“Additionally, there’s something I wanted to ask you.”
“…?”
“Why are you so afraid of me?”
Oliver’s question was genuine—he was truly curious. Why did beasts panic at the very sight of him?
“Do you… not… know?” Red Hood asked laboriously.
This reaction was understandable. If anything, the one who was curious should have been Red Hood.
What sort of beings were they, to walk the earth wearing human skins?
Had he remained an ordinary beast without undergoing a witch’s experiment, he would have simply fled without a second thought.
But having consumed humans, gaining both intelligence and ambition, and now facing this being, he couldn’t help but feel a deep desire to understand.
Just how did such an unnatural existence like this come to be?
“What… exactly… are you?”
“Pardon?”
“I asked… what… you are.”
Oliver looked at Red Hood with interest.
The previous answer had been fascinating enough, but this question intrigued him even more.
An answer was a passive stance, but a question showed active engagement.
Most intriguingly, even though Red Hood was still terrified of Oliver, just like the other beasts, he still dared to question him.
Eating humans had given Red Hood intelligence and certain human traits, but it was only a superficial layer.
The path of cannibalism offered some perks, but with definite limitations. That Red Hood retained an active stance despite his fear was purely due to his own will—a will of a mere beast.
It was an immensely intriguing occurrence, to see a beast exhibit a human-like resolve.
It was so interesting that Oliver felt a sudden urge to dissect and study him.
Shudder…
Sensing Oliver’s intent, Red Hood’s fur bristled, and he quickly backed away, maintaining distance.
The only reason he didn’t turn and flee was the fear that he might die if he tried.
And so Red Hood stepped back, purely for survival.
Seeing the terror in Red Hood, so similar to the responses of beasts he’d encountered in the past, Oliver raised his hand, showing his left palm as he approached slowly, retrieving the quarterstaff, and spoke again.
“Don’t be afraid. I have no intention of harming you.”
He used the same tone he’d used the first time he approached animals.
Back then, explaining like this had done little to convince them, but Red Hood seemed different, so he tried again.
Tap… tap… tap…
But there was hardly any change.
‘In the end, a beast is still a beast,’ Oliver thought as he watched Red Hood, trembling, ears flattened, gnashing his teeth in fear.
It was all the same. The trembling he had seen in orphanage rats and the barking dogs in the mines—it was all the same.
Oliver had faced those animals, trembling and afraid, always responding the same way no matter how much he reassured them. Over time, he had given up on taking much interest in animals because—
Plop.
With trembling hands, Red Hood tossed something to the ground.
An old iron key.
In an instant, Oliver recognized it as the key to the ancient castle housing the Flesh Chef’s legacy.
“…”
Red Hood, avoiding Oliver’s gaze, had thrown the key.
In that moment, he abandoned all his scheming, anger, hatred, selfishness, and determination, offering up the key to Oliver.
He was saying, “Take this and leave me alone,” surrendering everything to his fear.
Watching this, Oliver understood.
In this state, any question about why Red Hood feared him would likely yield no proper response.
Oliver hesitated, considering whether to continue the conversation or simply take the key and leave.
Professionally, he needed only the key to fulfill his mission here. After all, his sole purpose in coming had been to obtain it.
Yet, personally, he found it quite a shame to leave with just the key. It wasn’t every day he encountered a beast capable of holding a conversation.
For someone like Oliver, who had resolved to learn about himself, this was a rare and quite compelling opportunity…
After a long contemplation, however, Oliver decided to step back.
He was genuinely curious about the reason behind the beast’s fear of him, but at this rate, he wouldn’t get a meaningful answer. Besides, Red Hood was clearly terrified to an extreme degree.
Of course, he could try to force an answer out of him, but seeing Red Hood shivering in terror… somehow, it just didn’t seem right.
Though he couldn’t quite explain why.
So Oliver swallowed his disappointment and decided to be content with just obtaining the key.
“A beast is still just a beast, after all,” he muttered to himself, stooping to pick up the key that lay on the ground.
Just then, a black flash darted through the air as multiple projectiles simultaneously bombarded Oliver, setting off a series of powerful explosions.
Boom—!!
These projectiles weren’t merely explosive.
Each one was imbued with Red Hood’s razor-sharp claws, which embedded themselves into the target just before the explosion, adding piercing physical force. They aimed at the same location in overlapping bursts, bypassing any potential defense Oliver might employ.
It was a calculated, high-power attack with intense precision.
Nevertheless, Oliver deployed a lens-shaped shield, skillfully absorbing the blows.
“Grrr!”
“Aaargh!”
“Kyah!”
“Rah!”
But Red Hood had anticipated this, summoning four wolf-creatures as before, commanding them to converge on Oliver from four directions: front, left, right, and overhead.
The wolves, each larger than a car, charged from all sides, exerting massive pressure. Oliver, however, remained unfazed, extending his shield in all four directions to counter the attack.
The enormous wolves slammed into the dark, transparent shield, generating a colossal shockwave in the air.
The synchronized shockwaves from each direction caused the shield to sustain significant impact, forming cracks that radiated outward.
Whether by coincidence or intent, the shield—designed to withstand prolonged attacks—began to fracture, ultimately shattering.
As the shield fragments dispersed, a wolf-creature’s jaws breached through the gap, lunging at Oliver. He reacted instantly, casting black magic to counter the assault.
[Objective Hate]
[Black Shield]
Rather than dissipate, the shield’s shattered fragments transformed into dust-like projectiles, driving into each wolf-creature that had shattered the barrier.
As fragments lodged into sensitive areas—their eyes, noses, and mouths—the artificial creatures paused in agony.
Adding emotional energy to the fragments, Oliver then reformed his Black Shield, tearing through the wolf-creatures, leaving them in fragments that vanished like smoke.
In that fleeting moment, Oliver detected a surge of powerful magic and an intricate spell formation taking shape behind the dissipating creatures.
Zaaash!
A flash of lightning pierced the disintegrating creatures, shooting forward. The atmosphere crackled as the electric current surged, producing a spine-chilling sound that echoed through the forest.
The initial fire-based black magic, and even the wolf-creatures, had merely served to set up this one decisive strike.
For any ordinary opponent, the attack would have left severe injuries.
After all, who would expect a wolf wielding black magic to use a high-level spell like lightning-infused body projection?
Fortunately, Oliver didn’t seem to be just any opponent.
In the split-second the lightning shot toward him, he adjusted his stance, raising his quarterstaff diagonally to deflect it.
Turning, Oliver looked back, gazing at Red Hood, who still had an aura of lightning crackling around him, and asked,
“Why did you suddenly decide to fight?”
“I… am… not… a beast.”
The wolf—or rather, Red Hood—replied, resolute, as he shoved the key he had thrown earlier into his mouth, swallowing it whole like a ball of dried meat.
He had made up his mind.
As the key and meatball, along with his determination, entered his throat, Red Hood’s entire body radiated not only with black magic but also with mana and the vibrant energy of nature. With a mighty kick to the ground, he disappeared, leaving behind a shockwave and a faint, glowing trail in the air.