Chapter 549: A New Phase (1)
As Millieu and the graverobber Operte were engrossed in conversation, Oliver leisurely walked up to the fortress, and with utmost nonchalance, closed its door and turned the key, locking it.
Click.
The sound of the lock engaging caught everyone’s attention, and Oliver then made a proclamation.
"Would everyone other than Graverobber Operte please come out? I'm a bit tired. If you don't, I’ll snap this key in half."
Indeed, Oliver was declaring that he would break the only key granting access to the Flesh Chef's vault.
At first, everyone was silent, unable to comprehend his words, but when Oliver bent the key slightly, they immediately understood, each reacting in their own way.
“…Huh? …What!?”
The first to respond were Ewan and Millieu, as they were aware that Oliver was actually capable of doing it.
Perhaps due to his allies' reaction, several others observing the situation, apart from Operte, began revealing themselves one by one.
The first to appear were a pack of beasts, including a bear, deer, wolf, and dog. As they came into view, they shed their animal forms as if removing clothing, returning to their human appearances.
Judging by the intense green energy emanating from them, they appeared to be druids who seemed to have transformed into beasts by harnessing the power of the skins they wore.
“Is this the Enjoyment Faction? I thought they were all captured… And their energy seems formidable.”
While Oliver mused over the druids, others also began to emerge.
A group of magicians in brown and green robes sprang up from the ground, and a group of black magicians cloaked in shadow slipped out of the surrounding darkness. There was even a mercenary unit with distinct, unusual attire.
Apart from Operte, about four other groups had been hiding in the area.
All of them were remarkably skilled individuals.
Especially, the magicians dressed in brown and green seemed to be from the Gaia School, and each appeared to be at a master level.
The moment they appeared on the surface, they conjured numerous giant golems made of soil and stone, some assigned to the front lines and others to the rear. This demonstrated their depth of skill.
Lucien, observing them, remarked, “Huh… Gaia School magicians? I heard they were financially struggling, but to think that magicians would attempt to claim a black magician’s legacy… It’s a sad state for the so-called ‘Age of Magic.’”
Lucien's words implied that he had some knowledge of the traditional Gaia School magicians.
Oliver, too, was quite surprised. He had anticipated the presence of magicians, but only those unaffiliated, the typical street magicians.
He hadn’t expected officially affiliated magicians from a recognized school.
Listening to Lucien, it seemed they were indeed facing financial hardship, yet it still felt strange that such a reason alone had brought them here.
“No, perhaps not. Money is an important matter and can be reason enough… Besides, it seems everyone here was waiting outside.”
Oliver reflected, recalling his scan of the Sleeping Forest. These individuals weren’t ones he had seen at that time.
Which meant they had been lying in wait on the outer fringes of the dense forest, arriving hastily after the Sleeping Forest disappeared.
A magician, annoyed by Lucien’s polite sarcasm, rebuked him sternly.
"Don’t make judgments about us as if we were mere gang leaders. We haven’t come here for mere wealth."
Though the magician was earnest, Millieu’s reaction was cold.
“For someone who slinks out like a rat despite their usual arrogance, you sure have a lot to say.”
“That's a foolish sentiment. It’s not cowardice, but cleverness. A true hunter waits until their prey is at its weakest. To fail in that regard is to be incompetent and foolish.”
A druid wearing animal skins retorted.
This unpleasant exchange was then interrupted by Operte, the graverobber, who seemed frustrated by the emerging intruders.
“I wasn’t talking to you… Feeling guilty, are you?”
“What?”
“Oh? Not the case?”
With Operte’s intervention, the unwelcome guests began to growl at each other.
The graverobber Operte clashed verbally with the druid from the Enjoyment Faction,
the traditional Gaia School magicians kept a wary eye on the black magicians,
and although the mercenaries appeared to be calm, they were second in number only to Millieu and, therefore, faced the most suspicion.
All were using silence, accusations, and arguments to create a favorable situation for themselves.
After all, including Millieu, there were now six factions in total.
Considering both the chaotic nature of the melee and the dynamics of group behavior, even highly skilled individuals couldn’t avoid suffering losses.
Particularly when surrounded by enemies on all sides, the risk and variables multiplied exponentially.
With these factors in mind, each of Millieu’s bosses began to move cautiously. It was then that the mercenary captain, sensing the situation, made a suggestion.
“Perhaps it would be best to defeat them first and think afterward?”
This wasn’t a shallow attempt at agitation but a suggestion with a concrete target and direction, drawing everyone’s attention.
Perceiving this, the mercenary captain continued.
“Though they’re exhausted and injured, Millieu has the largest numbers here. They also possess the key… In this melee, Millieu stands to gain the most. Am I wrong?”
This straightforward yet sensible argument shifted everyone’s focus to Millieu.
As he said, Millieu held the most numbers at present. They also held the key, and the chaotic fight would favor them.
It seemed like Millieu, with the key, would become everyone’s target, but those wanting to snatch it would also be forced to keep each other in check, making it anything but straightforward.
“So, this is why you invited everyone out here, isn’t it?”
The mercenary captain glared sharply at Oliver, as if he’d seen through his shallow scheme.
To this, Oliver simply waved his hand.
“No, that wasn’t my intention. But your point is interesting, so I’ll take it into consideration.”
Seeing Oliver’s indifferent and calm response, the mercenary captain, though pretending otherwise, seemed slightly embarrassed.
“…You’re quite the liar.”
“It’s not a lie. I simply wished to speak to all of you at once. Frankly, I’m too tired to repeat myself every time someone comes out… I appreciate your understanding.”
Oliver, now led by Ewan and alone amidst the dense forest, thought back over the series of events: Red Hood, the Sleeping Forest, the White Swan Sect, and Puppet...
He was truly hungry and exhausted… At this point, he just wanted a break.
Seeing Oliver’s subtly different attitude, those besides Millieu began to eye him with a strange look.
His manner seemed polite on the surface, yet somehow conveyed a sense of arrogance, though one without malice.
“...What an insolent fellow.”
The first to react to Oliver’s unintentional arrogance was a prideful magician. Oliver, however, responded casually, continuing the conversation.
“If I came across as offensive, I apologize. I’ve simply been dealing with more than expected…”
He paused, seemingly tired, before continuing.
“What I wanted to say is that I have already secured half of the Flesh Chef's legacy, with the other half going to my business partners.”
Oliver declared boldly that half of the Flesh Chef's legacy was his own.
Millieu, who had been observing his actions, showed no particular reaction, but those waiting outside the Sleeping Forest looked on incredulously.
It was, after all, a hard-to-believe claim without having seen it for themselves. Some even asked Millieu with a sneering tone.
“Is that really true? This young lad gets half?”
“…”
Millieu remained silent at the questions from those who knew nothing, while Oliver continued as before.
“Are you perhaps open to the idea of sharing the remaining half with these gentlemen?”
Oliver looked at the leaders of Millieu and asked, but they all shook their heads in refusal.
It wasn’t just a matter of money; dividing their share with these intruding rats was an unreasonable suggestion.
Acknowledging their refusal, Oliver nodded and faced forward again.
“Then, would you all be willing to step back? We arrived here first, and we hold the key. We believe that we have the rightful claim to the legacy… While we’d like to share, they don’t wish to.”
Upon hearing this, the graverobber, magician, black magician, mercenary, druid, and other intruders all wore dazed expressions before breaking into laughter.
Laughter filled with anger.
Their laughter, explosive like a bomb, quickly subsided, transforming into a cold tone.
“We wouldn’t have shown up if we were going to leave over a mere request.”
“Besides, rights come from strength.”
“Now it’s clear who we should deal with first.”
Steam began to rise from Operte’s magitech equipment,
the magicians pushed their golems forward,
the druids transformed parts of their bodies into animalistic forms,
the black magicians manipulated shadows into dozens of blades,
and the mercenaries readied their formation.
Having chosen Oliver as their primary target, their murderous intent was evident.
Each of them was highly skilled. Although it was a situation that warranted tension, both Oliver and Millieu remained unfazed, likely due to the adversaries they’d previously faced.
Just as the two sides were about to clash—
Thud.
The holy knight, who had quietly stood as if invisible, placed a hand on Oliver’s shoulder, gently pulling him back.
Everyone looked on in confusion at the unexpected movement from the holy knight, who now exuded a subtle yet commanding aura that dominated the air around them.
“I, too, have a proposal.”
“...?”
“If you retreat quietly now, I won’t bother to chase you.”
The holy knight’s voice was like someone handling fish on a cutting board, calm yet full of authority, prompting Lucien to mutter without realizing it.
“A holy knight?”
The mention of a holy knight caused a reaction.
“A holy knight?”
“Are you insane…? A holy knight?”
“There were rumors of holy knight’s involvement, but to think they’d side with Millieu.”
“...The world’s gone mad.”
Murmurs of disdain and resentment erupted from every direction. However, the holy knight remained utterly indifferent.
While humans naturally vary in the extent to which they care about criticism, the holy knight maintained the same composed state he’d exhibited from the beginning.
He didn’t seem to care in the slightest.
The druid, apparently immune to the effects of the holy knight’s holy power, raised a beastly hand, pointing at him with clear irritation.
“Hey, holy knight… We know you’re strong, but isn’t it a bit too much to step out alone?”
“…”
“Especially in a forest where no one would even know if you died. In a filthy mess like this, an investigation would be the least of anyone’s concerns… Surely you’re not acting solely on your title as a holy knight?”
The druid taunted, though he knew well that the holy knight was strong and formidable, he was still alone, a limitation impossible to ignore. Besides, the druid himself was unaffected by holy power.
However, the holy knight’s demeanor remained unchanged.
“You talk too much. Just answer whether you’ll back down or continue.”
The druid flared up at the holy knight’s condescending tone, taking the lead, and the rest began to move as well.
The druid planned to take on the holy knight, while the others would attack Millieu and Oliver.
Ewan fled, and the remaining forces assumed combat stances as the holy knight clutched a rosary of gold and began chanting.
[Divine Summons]
With the holy knight’s invocation, the ominous sky above the forest split, and beams of light cascaded down like a waterfall, encircling the area.
Awe-inspiring as a spectacle of light, even Oliver seemed intrigued, and everyone froze in place.
Moments later, as the light weakened, a massive army surrounded them—fifty holy knights, three hundred servants, and a thousand soldiers bearing crosses on their backs.
Amid the stunned silence, the holy knight made another proposal.
“Surrender, or die.”
...
Ding! Ding! Ding!
On a dark night, the sound of somber bells echoed through a small village, accompanied by clouds of black smoke. Following this, swarms of angry flies rose up, covering the sky.
The source of the noise and the flies was the village entrance, where a group of black magicians’ corpses were lashed together like scarecrows on a golem—a corpse puppet—and a black magician, bloated as if drowned, stood there.
Dressed in simple yet clean attire, a middle-aged man with a pleasant face stood by.
It was Puppet.
“This time, I hope a princess shows up.”
Puppet murmured, gazing at six captured royal prince candidates tied to the staff of the golem corpse puppet.