Chapter 550: New Developments (2)
A buzzing sound, like a swarm of angry flies, echoed as they scattered in waves, spreading out to attack another village—specifically, another hideout of the White Swan Sect.
This was the sixth time.
Like the five previous villages, the villagers—who were also the sect’s followers—brought out hidden firearms to fight back.
Of course, it was futile.
Bang!
A gunshot rang out, but only a few flies fell. The rest of the swarm encircled the believers, tearing into their flesh while they were still alive.
“Aaargh! No, please!”
“It hurts! It’s so painful!”
“Why…why is it itching?”
“My…my eyes…ahh!”
“Urghhh!”
Those bitten by the flies experienced blisters, intense pain, itching, blindness, and even breathing difficulties, each succumbing to different symptoms.
They all fell into a state of confusion at the varied effects, yet this was a natural result.
These plague flies were bred since the days of the Plague Merchant and kept under Puppet’s control, nurturing a host of deadly diseases within them.
The diseases they carried were so numerous and severe that even Puppet couldn’t fully grasp the extent of their contagion.
Yet, the true horror of the plague flies had not yet emerged.
“Wh-what…is this?!”
A despairing scream rose.
A man, infected and now rotting alive, let out an agonized shriek as new flies began emerging from his decayed flesh.
“Ugh…no…!”
Cries of fear and disgust echoed through the air. This was the most terrifying aspect of the plague flies—their exponential reproduction, using human bodies as hosts.
The swarm continued to grow, matching the number of people collapsing, until it completely overtook the village, devouring trees, houses, and people without distinction.
Only Puppet, his chosen middle-aged male vessel, and the golem corpse puppet remained safe from the swarm, along with a single necromancer-corpse puppet.
Fwoooosh!!
Just then, a man adorned with a crown of thistle appeared, surrounded by a burst of flames.
He was the seventh prince candidate raised by the White Swan Sect, similar to those candidates captured in the Sleeping Forest and the other five villages before.
With a total of eleven prince candidates, more than half had already been taken.
“Ugh?! Y-your Highness?”
The seventh prince candidate picked up a man, half-eaten by the flies.
The captured man was filled with terror, knowing the fate he’d meet at the hands of the prince candidate, who specialized in sacrificial rituals and end-of-world prophecies.
“Kaaaagh!”
The man caught by the seventh prince candidate let out a blood-curdling scream as his skin began melting like wax and he burst into flames, burning alive.
His flesh became kindling, his blood fuel.
The red-hot flames grew thick and sticky, akin to the fires of hell.
Boom!
The newly conjured flames merged with the existing fire, doubling in intensity. The blazing heat and searing winds scorched the flies, driving them back.
It was a smart tactic. Against countless swarms, fire proved far more effective than guns or clubs.
However, the seventh prince candidate didn’t stop there. He crafted several flaming hands, using them to seize the believers who had become hosts to the swarm.
He intended to sacrifice the followers now rendered useless.
“Aaagh!”
“P-please, s-save—!”
“M-mommy! Mo—!”
The terrified followers shrieked in fear as the fiery hands gripped them, only to be reduced to ashes.
…
After offering up the followers as sacrifices, the seventh prince candidate silently roared, then, moments later, conjured an intangible flame that solidified into a tangible door.
“You had prepared for this… Well, with five villages attacked aside from the Sleeping Forest, preparations were only natural.”
Puppet, in the body of the amiable-looking middle-aged man, gazed at the massive flame door, towering 6.35 meters high and 3.98 meters wide.
The flame door radiated intense heat as it slowly opened, and from within, a massive crow wreathed in flames emerged.
━━━━━━!!
The enormous crow, resembling a vast structure, let out a soundless screech, spreading its wings wide and resonating with the surrounding fire.
The flames surged with an uncontrollable fury, radiating intense heat in waves as they attempted to engulf Puppet from all sides.
Just then—
Deng! Deng! Deng!
As the flames reached out for Puppet, the golem-corpse puppet, stitched together like a scarecrow, rang a large bell attached to its staff, releasing waves of black sound.
The black sound waves struck the flaming crow’s head, weakening its strength.
But that wasn’t the end.
[Negation]
With a chant emanating from the veiled face of the golem-corpse puppet, the fiery village split in two like the Red Sea.
The flaming crow perched on the puppet’s fingertip suffered a severe shock, causing its flames to dim, while cracks appeared throughout its skeleton.
Crash!
The golem-corpse puppet didn’t miss the opportunity, leaping into the air and slamming its staff down on the flaming crow.
A sharp chime followed by a dull thud.
Under the relentless assault, the crow’s cracked wing collapsed, and the swarm of flies gathered into tentacles, burrowing into the crow’s shattered form, breaking it down from within.
Boom!
The flaming crow collapsed with a heavy crash.
The seventh prince candidate, attempting to retaliate by manipulating the remaining flames, was easily subdued by a powerful punch from the golem-corpse puppet.
They were easier to handle than expected—the so-called prince candidates of the White Swan Sect.
After all, despite their grandiose titles, they held no true power beyond enduring the blessings of their sect’s leader.
“A resolute man desiring the end of the world? How could someone of actual integrity seek such a thing?”
In the body of the middle-aged man, Puppet walked over to the seventh prince candidate, whose body was now completely shattered, and looked down upon him.
These were mere bitter, inferior beings who held only resentment for the world, ignorant of the incredible blessings they had received. It was truly unfair.
After gazing down at the defeated seventh prince for a moment, Puppet turned to look at the golem-corpse puppet, specifically at the prince candidate captured from the Sleeping Forest who lacked a thistle crown.
He had been taken from the forest, and Puppet glanced at him briefly before reaching out to the thistle crown on the seventh prince candidate’s head.
Clutching it tightly…
Had he pulled just a bit harder, he might have torn it off, yet an odd pain prevented him from doing so.
Strangely, he could feel pain despite having blocked it. This must indeed be a creation imbued with demonic power.
“Not so easy after all…”
Having failed to remove the thistle crown, Puppet lifted his head.
Hellfire still blazed on all sides, a hellish fire born of the seventh prince sacrificing his followers.
Even with the sorcerer defeated, the fire continued to burn—a clear sign that someone had assumed control over the flames.
As if to confirm Puppet’s suspicions, a path formed within the fiery sea, revealing a shabby hut, miraculously untouched amid the inferno and the swarm of flies.
Seeing the hut, Puppet murmured, “It seems you’re finally ready to talk.”
Puppet led the golem-corpse puppet and the captured prince candidates down the path of flames toward the hut.
…
Upon opening the worn door of the hut, Puppet spoke as he entered.
“The prince candidates are unexpectedly fragile.”
Seated within the dilapidated hut was a young girl.
Her lips were sewn shut, and with bloodied hands, she ceaselessly wove together stinging nettles.
Her eerie appearance greatly diminished the beauty she held, reminiscent of a princess from a fairy tale. Yet, she remained indifferent, continuing to weave in silence.
…
Ignoring her entirely, Puppet felt satisfied. Her mere presence here indicated some willingness to talk.
After placing the prince candidates before her, Puppet pulled up a broken chair, sat comfortably, and began speaking.
“First, I must apologize…Princess.”
The princess remained silent, continuing to weave the nettles.
“For having turned the prince candidates you worked so hard to create into this.”
The princess remained silent, weaving the nettles.
“Though, in truth, I don’t feel all that remorseful. They weren’t exactly worth the effort, were they? I’m sure you’d agree.”
The princess remained silent, weaving the nettles, while the barely conscious prince candidates looked up at her.
The White Swan Princess, who once made them believe they were special.
But she didn’t spare them a glance.
“Regardless of your blessing, if the vessel is unworthy, it’s useless… Surely, you sense it as well. Even with the demon’s descent underway, the limitations are clear due to the vessels. Thus, you’re searching for new vessels.”
Speaking of a truth unknown even to the prince candidates, Puppet’s words shocked them, but the princess continued weaving nettles in silence.
“So, I’ve come to offer some help…with your problem, Princess.”
For the first time, the princess reacted.
“A suitable prince candidate has been found in the New World. Unlike the candidates here, who detest the world more than anyone, this one possesses talent, dedication, and a strong will, something entirely different…”
As Puppet trailed off, the air shattered, and a figure holding a young boy appeared—a crimson-skinned figure, with one leg made of twisted flesh and skin marked by mottled discolorations.
A survivor from the scene of the Burnt One’s descent, unyielding, with knees that refused to bend.
…
Rattle. Clink.
In the heart of the war-torn capital city of Gallos, Oliver dined at a restaurant in Laville, amidst ongoing reconstruction efforts.
Despite the devastation caused by the flesh chef, with the support of magic, mechanical engineering, the Archive, and the Pater Church, the city was swiftly being restored.
Originally, Oliver had planned to retrieve the flesh chef’s legacy and depart immediately for Landa, but he was persuaded to stay briefly by a holy knight, giving him a chance to observe the city’s reconstruction.
“Would you consider staying here for a while?”
The Iron-Masked holy knight, who had summoned a thousand-strong army with a golden rosary, had extended the offer.
Curious about the holy knight who subdued an entire host of mercenaries, druids, black magicians, wizards, and grave robbers without a single battle, Oliver had accepted the proposal, now enjoying his meal at a Laville restaurant.
[Some of them seem to be watching you.]
Eve’s voice, transmitted through a communication device attached to the inside of Oliver’s shirt collar, noted this while detecting nearby magical energy.
Since leaving the Sleeping Forest and reestablishing connection a few hours ago, Eve had been conversing with Oliver whenever he took breaks, and Oliver didn’t mind; it helped pass the time.
“Is it because of how I’m eating?”
Using his left hand and magic to cut his steak, Oliver asked.
After sustaining burns on his right hand from the Burnt One, Oliver had been suppressing the pain with the help of a spirit. However, gripping a knife was difficult, so he manipulated his magic to create a small “Ptah’s Assistant” to cut the steak for him.
This unusual display seemed to attract some curious glances.
[That may be part of it, but I don’t think that’s the only reason.]
“Oh, really?”
Oliver was focused on his steak, answering Eve’s observation casually.
The food was fantastic, especially to Oliver, who was always hungry. It was almost a shame that he was close to finishing.
If he could, he’d keep eating here until the restaurant ran out of ingredients.
‘They say excessive gluttony is a sin in the scriptures.’
Oliver thought about the teachings he’d recently reviewed in the scriptures Joanna had given him in the New World. He’d already read it once but often revisited it in his spare time.
He wondered what she was up to now. He recalled that she’d mentioned going to the church headquarters.
At that moment, Eve spoke again.
[It seems rumors have started to spread.]
“Hmm?” Oliver paused mid-bite, the timing of this comment aligning with a certain nagging suspicion he had.
Based on past experiences, he had a pretty good idea of what these rumors might entail—though he didn’t particularly welcome it.
As always, his intuition didn’t fail him, as Eve clarified.
[The story of Dave’s success in securing the flesh chef’s legacy has been spreading. It’s not only circulating within Gallos but reaching beyond it.]