Chapter 536: The Princess's Territory (2)
“Your Highness. That person... has entered.”
The large room was empty save for a single bed.
An old woman with a large frame spoke. She had wings on her back, like a fairy, which allowed her to hover in mid-air—just like a fairy godmother from a storybook.
“I know. I even greeted him,” the princess replied as she tidied her disheveled hair after waking up on the bed.
She had lived for hundreds of years, yet her appearance remained as fresh as that of a young girl, a beauty that seemed to defy time.
Or perhaps, that description wasn’t quite right. Rather than living, it was more accurate to say that the princess endured.
But neither outcome was something she desired.
“Is this really okay?”
The old woman fidgeted her hands, a sign of her anxiety.
It was truly ironic. This very black magician, who had once used fear and anxiety to bring an entire kingdom to ruin centuries ago, now looked so uncertain.
Then again, perhaps it was natural. The more one knows, the greater the fear and despair.
And no one understood that better than the princess.
“What’s there not to be okay about?”
“Pardon...?”
“I asked, what’s there not to be okay about?”
At the princess’s question, the old woman lowered her gaze and shut her mouth tight, like a sinner guilty of a crime. And indeed, she had sinned.
Yet, what did it matter now?
“Fate is set, and we are merely cogs within it. What weight do our actions truly carry?”
“...Will he come?”
“Who knows? I dropped a word or two he might find interesting, but...”
The princess trailed off, gazing toward the window.
The curtains gently parted, revealing the outside scenery.
The Sleeping Forest, where both the location and size changed constantly, came into view.
The forest appeared calm, but as the princess—the ruler and, at the same time, the slave of this forest—she could sense it.
She could feel just how turbulent the forest was, how it expanded its borders, worsened the environment, and spawned creatures to fend off countless intruders, much like an immune system acting within a body.
“It doesn’t seem likely. With the forest in this state, it would take more than just an ordinary will to reach us here.”
Indeed, the Sleeping Forest was both under the princess’s control and beyond it.
The princess was its master and yet its prisoner.
If she deemed something a threat, the forest would sever all connections with the outside world. The forest existed because of her presence.
It was also why she could not leave this castle.
With so many intruders and people targeting her directly, the forest would protect her more fiercely than ever, forcing anyone to exert far greater effort to reach her.
An indomitable will beyond that of the forest’s.
“You said you called him with words that would interest him? Then surely it will be all right?”
The old woman asked, feeling a chill crawl up her spine.
The princess replied, “Yes, I drew his attention by hinting at his unjust fate. But that alone won’t be enough.”
The old woman, flapping her wings, drifted closer to the princess.
Not by her own will, but by the princess’s.
Though she had once terrorized a kingdom, exploiting the fear and despair of the people with her black magic, she was now nothing more than one of the princess’s creatures.
“He harbors profoundly contradictory emotions,” the princess said.
“Your Highness...?”
“He wants to know about himself, but at the same time, he’s afraid to know. If he truly wished to understand, he would have sought out more certain and expedient ways.”
The princess recalled a scene she had seen in a dream.
When the master of a destroyed land had tried to reveal their secrets to him, he left the moment an escape route appeared.
And it wasn’t the first time. The flesh chef, the demons, Theodore... each time he had the chance to learn about himself, he subtly retreated, as if trapped in an endless loop.
It was incredibly frustrating.
However, the princess bore him no resentment.
As she had acknowledged, he was someone burdened with an incredibly unjust fate.
She understood why he wished to ignore his destiny.
Better than anyone.
“But time is running out. I, too, am growing weary. So please, help me. So that I might truly speak with him.”
The princess looked at the old woman as she spoke.
...
“Since I last saw you, you’ve truly grown even more impressive…”
Claude marveled as he looked at Oliver.
And for good reason—creatures that had relentlessly regenerated and attacked fell powerless the moment Oliver took up his blood-colored dagger and fought back.
They had succumbed to the countless diseases embedded in the blade.
Sheathing the dagger, Oliver replied, “It was pure luck. I’ve dealt with similar creatures in the past.”
Oliver recalled facing Pan’s creatures in the New World.
Pan’s creatures, created using human souls and bodies, were far stronger and more troublesome than ordinary creatures. Even Oliver had struggled with them.
Particularly memorable were Pan’s shadow-creature, which was nearly invincible, and the intestine-creature, which was so massive that it was nearly impervious to damage.
The one weapon that had worked was the blood-colored dagger he had just sheathed—a gift from Wallace, a member of the Kel Liberation Army. He had enchanted it with disease-oriented black magic using Oliver’s blood.
As soon as Oliver saw the creatures of the Sleeping Forest, he instinctively knew they weren’t ordinary opponents and had reflexively wielded the dagger.
Fortunately, the creatures here disintegrated as if crumbling under the diseases within the blade.
“Claude. They say this is the Princess’s territory within the Sleeping Forest… does that mean she created all this?”
Oliver came to Claude’s aid partly out of goodwill for an old acquaintance but also because of curiosity.
“Yes… don’t you know who she is?”
Claude asked, indicating she was likely a well-known black magician.
“No, I don’t… Is she part of the Black Hand?”
Claude nodded.
“Yes, but she is a black magician rivaling those with master-level power. At least, that’s what the rumors say.”
A black magician rivaling the “fingers” of the Black Hand. Oliver understood.
The creatures were one thing, but the defensive enchantments within the forest alone made her worthy of comparison to the fingers.
It exuded the same chilling energy as the Gate of Hell that Puppet had once shown him.
“But what is she doing here? Wasn’t this area supposed to contain the flesh chef’s legacy?”
“That’s because her territory is constantly moving.”
A third voice cut in.
Turning, they saw a man with a thin body and orange hair standing there.
He wore a vest made from a Greedy Pouch.
Claude and Bay met eyes with Oliver, and Claude introduced him.
“This is… Bay. And this is the Plague Merchant, who has come along to claim the flesh chef’s legacy.”
“Bay… as in, Bay the Bomb Master?”
Oliver asked, pointing to Bay. After all, he had been attacked by a hundred or so suicide puppets as soon as he entered the forest.
Claude and Bay remembered this well and flinched before admitting it.
“Apologies. You’re renowned in Landa, so I acted without thinking…”
“Oh, it’s fine. Everyone here has risked their lives for the flesh chef’s legacy. I understand.”
“Is that so?”
Bay asked, slightly surprised. Oliver nodded.
“Yes. If I needed to, I’d do the same.”
Hearing this, Claude and Bay, as well as the Plague Merchant, looked at Oliver with slight apprehension.
There was a calmness to his words that somehow made them feel his sincerity. Bay and the Plague Merchant began to understand why Claude had described Oliver as someone difficult to grasp.
Bay and the Plague Merchant began to understand why Claude had described Oliver as someone difficult to grasp.
After they settled past issues, Claude and Bay informed Oliver about the peculiarities of the Sleeping Forest: how its location shifts periodically, the various creatures it spawns, and how food, water, and medicine deteriorate quickly here.
“Not to mention, the terrain itself changes constantly,” Claude added.
“Thank you for the valuable information.”
Oliver absorbed Claude’s insights, storing them in his mind.
“It’s just a return favor for your help. But it seems you’re particularly interested in the Princess of the Sleeping Forest, am I right?”
Claude’s sudden question caught Oliver off guard, but he simply recalled the brief moment he’d seen the princess before entering the forest and evaded further explanation.
“Finding out there’s a member of the Black Hand I don’t know is enough to pique my curiosity. Besides, earlier, I met…”
Oliver trailed off, scanning the area.
The figure of Red Hood, who had vanished when swallowed by the mist, was nowhere to be seen.
“...Dave?” he murmured.
“I encountered someone interesting. I figured the Princess of the Sleeping Forest might be equally intriguing.”
Claude remained silent. Few people in the world would regard someone with power comparable to the Black Hand’s fingers as merely “interesting.”
After exchanging information and pleasantries, Oliver was about to take his leave when Claude made an unexpected request.
“Dave, could we accompany you as well?”
“What?”
“It’s true we’re here for the flesh chef’s legacy, but we’re in a rather tight spot. A cult ambushed us, leaving us unprepared as we fled into the Sleeping Forest.”
“A cult?”
“Yes... the White Swan Sect. They’ve been mostly quiet until now, but recently, they’ve become active. They ambushed us, forcing us to escape here.”
Oliver was about to ask more about the White Swan Sect, but Claude quickly continued.
“Besides, this forest is far more hostile than we anticipated. Frankly, we could use your help, and we’ll offer whatever assistance we can in return.”
Though the proposal was sudden, Claude’s sincerity was evident.
Oliver sensed there was something more behind Claude’s request and asked, “You seem to have your own motives here, don’t you?”
Claude didn’t deny it.
“I do, but I’m not foolish enough to pursue it given our current situation.”
Understanding his position, Oliver asked with a knowing look, “Is it for Puppet?”
...
Oliver replied to Claude, “As I mentioned earlier, I’m working with the members of Milieu, so I can’t decide on my own. I’ll check with them and let you know.”
“That’s more than enough. Thank you.”
As soon as Claude answered, Oliver took a piece of paper from his pocket, tossing it into the air to activate a spell.
A violet portal appeared on the paper, and Oliver, along with Claude’s group, entered it.
“Oh, you’re back?!”
As soon as Oliver stepped out of the portal, he was greeted by none other than Lucien.
Dressed in shimmering silver armor, Lucien showed visible relief upon seeing him. A glance around quickly revealed why.
Creatures from the Sleeping Forest were pouring out in a massive assault.
The camp was half-destroyed, with Milieu on the defensive.
Thanks to a giant barrier cast by an armored paladin and the heavy fire of a Gatling gun, they were barely holding on.
Lucien was remarkably composed, and Oliver thought he might enjoy speaking with him later.
“Are these the princess’s creatures?”
“Yes… you’re familiar with them?”
“Some friends briefed me on them,” Oliver replied, gesturing toward Claude’s group. Lucien, also from the underworld of Gallos, recognized their faces at once.
Despite the chaos, Lucien refrained from questioning Oliver about their presence.
Experience had taught him well that temporary alliances often form in desperate situations—evidenced by the numerous black magicians and fixers gathered inside and outside the camp.
Through a shared understanding, Oliver and Lucien wordlessly agreed to handle the more immediate threats first.
In that moment, a benefit of being under attack became apparent. Even amidst uncertainty, they could still rely on one another.
“So, where should I start?” Oliver asked.
Without hesitation, Lucien pointed outside the divine barrier.
There, people who hadn’t managed to enter the barrier were in danger, including Ewan.
“Aagh! I missed my chance to escape! Die already!” Ewan yelled, maintaining his usual humor despite being cornered by creatures.
Brandishing a head wand adorned with a human face and a cat-turned-machine gun, he unleashed a storm of fire and bullets in every direction.
His firepower was so immense that the creatures struggled to approach, allowing Milieu troops, black magicians, and fixers to rally around him, moving slowly toward the camp.
“Dammit! You’re supposed to protect me! I’m not a fighter!”
Just then, a heavy thud, thud echoed ominously through the forest.
A skeleton giant over five meters tall emerged.
Sensing an unusual energy, Ewan cursed and concentrated his firepower on it, but the skeleton giant’s natural defenses shrugged it off as it advanced.
As fear began to ripple through the crowd, Oliver swiftly extracted emotions, creating a swamp of disease that snared the giant’s feet.
The giant staggered.
Seizing the moment, Oliver surrounded his legs with a black suit, drew his blood-colored dagger, and activated [Targeting].
With the spell, bullseyes appeared on both Oliver and the skeleton giant’s bodies. Amplifying his gravitational pull, Oliver propelled himself at the giant, thrusting the dagger deep into its frame.
A sickening squelch sounded as the disease-enchantment spread, a deadly effect that had crumbled countless creatures.
To everyone’s astonishment, the seemingly invincible skeleton giant fell.
The crowd erupted in cheers, but Oliver, unfazed, continued extracting emotions from the disintegrating giant and mingled them with the swamp below, releasing disease magic that only affected the creatures.
Being creatures born from the same dark sorcery, the contagion spread with astonishing potency.
In that instant, Oliver’s shadow flickered, whispering a request to consume the countless creatures around it.
The creatures, composed of the flesh chef’s emotions, magic, and life force, sparked a greed in the shadow so intense it might consume everything.
However, Oliver refused. He could only imagine what might happen if the shadow devoured so many.
If they had been other creatures, he might have allowed it. But this shadow was an extension of himself, demanding caution.
So, Oliver dismissed the shadow’s plea and prepared to use fire magic. But just then, he felt a tug on his coat.
Tap, tap.
A familiar sensation.
Involuntarily, Oliver turned, only to find a child crafted from shadows.
He had seen this sight before. The Burnt One had shown him.
Though the figure was cruder than those created by the Burnt One, Oliver hesitated briefly as memories surfaced.
After all, it was only a replica.
Yet, he found himself unable to pull away. The shadowy child rippled, morphing into a face Oliver recognized.
“P-please... save me. I’m so afraid to die... to go to hell... please...”
Collin.
Frozen in place, Oliver barely had time to react as creatures, legs still trapped in the diseased swamp, lunged at him from all sides like ravenous predators.
Everyone around him gasped in horror as Oliver spoke softly.
“Shadow… devour them. All of them.”