Chapter 553: A New Phase (5)
Creak...
In a modest inn room, Oliver opened the door and walked in.
True to the rundown nature of the inn, the door hinges groaned as soon as he entered, though the sound was brief. The moment Oliver shut the door and cast a soundproofing spell, every trace of noise in the room vanished as if erased.
Originally, Lucien and the other leaders of Milieu had offered to arrange a more luxurious hotel for him. However, Oliver had politely declined, preferring this hidden inn for his own reasons during his stay in Gallos. Thus, under normal circumstances, he would have begun his tasks right away, but instead, he sat on the bed, lost in thought, replaying his recent conversation with Murphy in his mind.
"Congratulations on becoming a Finger."
Murphy had said this, sincerely congratulating him after narrowly escaping death, falling from a high-rise building and nearly being stabbed by a knife.
The problem was that it wasn’t a mere joke or a polite gesture—it was genuine.
Caught off guard, Oliver had asked Murphy what he meant instead of discussing Milo, Murphy’s youngest brother, as he’d originally planned. Sincere curiosity filled his question.
"A Finger...? What exactly do you mean?"
Murphy looked taken aback at Oliver's question, as if he'd expected him to know. And yet, Oliver’s question was only natural.
The title of Finger referred to four of the most prominent black magicians within the Black Hand—a confederation of dark sorcerers.
Immortal Puppet, Flesh Chef, Eternal Child Pan, and the Pied Piper.
They were powerful black magicians who’d reigned for hundreds, or at least dozens, of years.
But attaching such a title to Oliver? There was much to dissect.
To begin with, Oliver wasn’t even a member of the Black Hand.
Responding to Oliver’s bewilderment, Murphy, still looking surprised but seemingly half-expecting this, replied:
"Ah, as I thought—you didn’t know... I had a feeling you might not."
It wasn’t sarcasm; it was an honest statement based on Oliver’s nature.
Murphy, wanting to form a good relationship with Oliver, had taken him aside to a quieter place and explained, mixing genuine goodwill with a pragmatic intention to strengthen their connection.
"Although you may have a lot you’d like to say, currently, the rumor has spread. They’re saying a new Finger has emerged."
"That ‘new Finger’... are they referring to me?"
"Yes. Specifically, they're referring to the fixer of Landa's District T, Street 30, and the head of the redevelopment project in District X—Dave Wright."
Murphy carefully clarified the distinction between Dave's identity as a fixer and Zenon’s as a Tower staff member. While even Tower students were well aware that these identities were linked, Oliver had retained both thanks to his unique circumstances and Merlin's help, leaving them ambiguously unmerged.
Sometimes he was fixer Dave, and at other times, he was Zenon. All according to his own whims.
Murphy continued with his explanation.
"And the reason for this rumor is none other than—"
"—the matter of Flesh Chef’s legacy?"
Oliver, who had recently discussed this topic with Eve at the restaurant, guessed; there were no other possible reasons at the moment.
Unluckily, his suspicion turned out to be accurate, as it so often was.
"That’s right. Flesh Chef’s legacy… Officially, it was claimed by the Gallos Royal Family, and unofficially, it’s rumored Milieu found it. But there are some who say it was discovered by Mr. Dave."
"Why would they think that?"
"Because Mr. Dave single-handedly defeated a cult and fought on equal footing with Puppet, a Finger."
Murphy seemed half-doubtful, but he refrained from asking Oliver to confirm the truth.
By observing Oliver's reaction, he confirmed that the rumor subtly circulating in the underworld was indeed true.
"So it’s real."
Oliver responded with silence, choosing not to verbally answer as a courtesy to Murphy, who was providing him with information out of goodwill. Besides, there was no point in trying to deceive someone who wouldn’t fall for obvious lies.
Murphy, interpreting the silence, spoke up.
"Remarkable, truly. But honestly, I’m not all that surprised. I always thought that Mr. Dave might accomplish something like this someday."
"..."
"Well, regardless, due to this rumor, the title of Finger has now been attached to Mr. Dave, unofficially but recognized nonetheless... You went head-to-head with a Finger, after all."
Oliver had plenty of objections.
Yes, he had fought against Puppet, but it had only been to assess each other’s abilities—a spar, really. Saying they fought on equal terms was misleading.
Moreover, Puppet hadn’t even utilized the full power of the Archive’s corpse puppets.
Still, after having some social experience, Oliver knew that trying to clarify such nuances would be pointless. So instead, he asked a more practical question.
"I understand that ‘Finger’ refers to the black magicians representing the Black Hand... But I’m not part of the Black Hand. How could I receive the title of Finger? Does that mean I’m known as a Black Hand black magician?"
Oliver’s voice carried a hint of concern, as if he were wary of the potential implications. In the past, he might have ignored it, but now, with responsibilities, rumors like these posed a certain risk.
After all, if the people who’d placed their livelihood in Oliver's hands, such as the Chosen Ones, the Fighter Crew, and the District X redevelopment company, suddenly found themselves in danger due to him, he’d feel somewhat guilty.
No matter how unofficial his alliance with the City of Landa was, even they couldn’t shield him from the Black Hand.
"No, there are no rumors that Mr. Dave is part of the Black Hand."
"Ah, that’s a relief. Then, why...?"
"Well... Words have a way of shifting in meaning."
"A way of shifting meaning?"
"Yes. The meaning of a word can change over time. For example, Kaiser, which means ‘emperor,’ was originally a person’s name."
"Oh, you’re knowledgeable."
"I read, you know. Anyway, while your definition of Finger is accurate, it has come to mean a powerful black magician over time. That’s due to the extraordinary aura these black magicians have accumulated over the past centuries."
Oliver instantly grasped what he meant.
The Fingers he’d encountered—Puppet, Flesh Chef, and Pan—were powerful enough to instill fear. Even the Pied Piper, whom he hadn’t yet met, was known as an entity to be feared.
Puppet could command armies of zombies and manipulate even the Archive's corpse puppets. Flesh Chef had devastated Gallos’ capital. Pan commanded a creature army that even holy knights struggled to face.
Most frighteningly, the Pied Piper had singlehandedly defeated a coalition army of several nations.
"Now, among the four Fingers, one has reportedly perished at the Archive, and another is rumored to have died as well."
Oliver had an idea of who Murphy was referring to—Flesh Chef and Pan.
The rumor had spread that Pan, who had ventured to the New World in an attempt to capture a demon, had met a devastating defeat and disappeared. Although Oliver didn’t entirely believe Pan was dead, it was a widely held notion.
Murphy continued explaining.
"With the original four Fingers now reduced to possibly only two, someone like Mr. Dave, bearing such rumors, might naturally acquire the title of Finger."
"Hmm… I still don’t fully understand."
After hearing Murphy’s detailed explanation, Oliver gave his honest assessment.
"Consider it a matter of authority. Power abhors a vacuum."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. Just look at Gallos right now. With Flesh Chef gone, everyone’s scrambling to seize that power. It’s a completely natural phenomenon."
"..."
Oliver fell silent, beginning to understand. However, the predicament remained unresolved.
He’d expected rumors to spread to some extent thanks to Eve, but he hadn’t anticipated that it would lead to him receiving the title of Finger. Unsure of whether this was beneficial or detrimental, he found himself all the more uneasy.
It felt like an additional complication had arisen in his already busy life.
"Don’t worry too much. It’s not official yet, and Mr. Dave has a clear public identity—Tower staff and a legitimate business owner. Without direct evidence, even the holy knights wouldn’t easily bother you."
Reading Oliver’s feelings with his usual perceptiveness, Murphy offered him this reassurance. Judging by his demeanor, it was evident he wasn’t just saying this to be polite.
"Thank you for your words."
"Well, after you saved my life, it’s the least I can do. Shall we consider this my repayment of that debt?"
Oliver nodded at Murphy’s attempt at humor.
"Oh, speaking of which... That group who attacked you—weren’t they remnants of Flesh Chef’s faction? They seemed determined. Why were they so focused on targeting you?"
Recalling the recent incident where Murphy had been attacked and thrown off a building, Oliver asked. Murphy hadn’t simply been caught in the middle; the attack had clearly been directed at him.
"It’s probably because I managed to acquire the recipe for Bloody Wine."
Bloody Wine—the infamous product created by mixing human blood into wine and aging it with dark magic, a hallmark of Flesh Chef.
Since Flesh Chef’s death, supply had ceased, making it a scarce and highly sought-after item in the underworld.
"You actually secured that recipe?"
"Yes, I’m rather resourceful... Though I have no intention of replicating Flesh Chef’s exact method. I plan to modify it into something more like magical liquor."
Murphy volunteered this explanation, even though Oliver hadn’t asked for it.
"That’s likely why they attacked me. Those remnants of Flesh Chef’s faction see the Bloody Wine recipe as their rightful possession."
"Is that everything?"
Peering into Murphy’s emotions, Oliver sensed there was more and pressed for further information.
Murphy, startled by Oliver’s perceptiveness, finally answered.
"...From what I’ve heard, they’re also planning to restart operations with the backing of some nobles. Part of their motive might be to eliminate competitors in advance."
"Ho..."
It was an interesting development. As far as Oliver knew, Flesh Chef had once been financially supported by the Populist faction. But now, these remnants seemed to be forming an alliance with the nobility, the exact opposite of the Populists.
"One side needs money, while the other seeks backing... Not really surprising. This is how the world works."
"I see."
"...And, there’s one more thing I’d like to mention. I’ve been hesitant because it may be presumptuous, but I believe it’s necessary to let you know. I apologize if I’m overstepping."
"? What is it?"
"There’s also a rumor circulating that Mr. Dave might have a connection to Flesh Chef."
As he recalled Murphy’s words, Oliver’s mind returned to the present.
According to Murphy, the way Oliver had handled himself in obtaining Flesh Chef’s legacy led some people to speculate that he was the ‘reincarnation’ of Flesh Chef.
The hallmark of Flesh Chef’s skills—decapitation...
And his overwhelming physical strength, enough to shatter massive objects with his bare hands.
At the time, Oliver hadn’t given it much thought due to the pressing circumstances, but as soon as Murphy mentioned it, he realized the implications.
"This isn’t meant to pry into your personal matters. Everyone has secrets, after all. I just thought you should be aware that such rumors are spreading."
Thanks to Murphy’s consideration, Oliver was able to gather information without having to lie or remain silent.
In a way, it was a fair return for the help he’d provided.
"Hmm... Should I return to Landa for now?"
Oliver briefly considered returning to Landa instead of attending the party he was invited to tonight.
The gathering, ostensibly a charity event to raise funds for Laville's restoration, was actually a celebration in honor of the civilian organization Milieu, which had retrieved Flesh Chef's legacy.
Oliver, too, had been invited to attend—by a holy knight, no less.
Given the circumstances, leaving and skipping the party seemed the wisest choice. While it was unlikely the holy knights would make a direct move against Oliver, associating with them after receiving the unofficial title of Finger didn’t seem beneficial.
But soon, Oliver dismissed the thought.
Not only did he feel uneasy breaking his word, but he was also curious about this particular holy knight.
How to put it... This holy knight was unlike any he had met before.
He lacked the typical air of distrust, disdain, or borderline arrogance and superiority that holy knights usually displayed toward black magicians.
Oliver was curious about the reason behind this knight’s invitation.
"Hmm, keeping a promise is always best."
Balancing his curiosity and caution, Oliver decided to stay and attend the event. He would make good use of the time left before the party.
With that, he began his preparations.
"Big Mouth."
As he called out, Oliver took Big Mouth from the leather case strapped to his back.
At his name, Big Mouth swelled up, sprouting eyeballs and limbs all over its body.
"Grooowl..."
Big Mouth let out a deep, rumbling sound, noticeably more bloated than usual.
This was because it had swallowed half of the immense wealth hidden in Flesh Chef’s vault, nearly reaching its storage capacity.
Well, Big Mouth seemed perfectly content, if anything.
"Groak!"
"Big Mouth."
"Grooo?"
Big Mouth narrowed its multiple eyes suspiciously at Oliver, wary that he might demand it regurgitate the gold, cash, and jewels it had consumed.
In fact, Oliver had once told Big Mouth to stop eating, as it seemed far too much for it alone. But Big Mouth had refused, insisting it could eat it all, and had ultimately swallowed every last piece of Flesh Chef’s hoard, driven by its inherent greed and gluttony.
Oliver had promised it a single gold bar, a bundle of bills, and the most faded jewel as its share, and yet here they were.
Wanting to ease Big Mouth’s suspicion, Oliver clarified.
"Don’t worry, Big Mouth. I’m calling you for something else."
"Grooor?"
"Can you bring out the books?"
Big Mouth's expression instantly brightened, and with a grin that revealed rows of human-like teeth, it unzipped and began spewing out the contents.
"Bleeegh!"
What came out was none other than a collection of demonic tomes that Oliver had read during his stay in Gallos. He had carefully transcribed the most critical sections, including methods for summoning specific demons and analyses of demon summoning techniques.
Compared to the previous demonic texts he had read, these were far more practical and direct, containing some rather intriguing theories.
Among the most fascinating was the analysis that the critical factor in summoning a demon wasn’t the ritual or even the sacrificial offerings, but rather the demon’s own will.
According to this theory, no matter how precise the ritual or how valuable the offering, if the demon was uninterested, summoning it would be impossible.
Just as an ant offering something precious to it might not interest a human at all, demons would respond only as their whims dictated.
"So why, then, would demons, including the Burnt One, choose to respond to a summoning?"
A small question surfaced in Oliver's mind, but he set it aside for now.
This task had nothing to do with pondering such matters.
Amidst the stacks of books Big Mouth had expelled, Oliver searched and found a specific volume.
It was the very first demonic book he’d ever obtained, the one he’d received from Edith—an entirely blank book.
With the book in hand, Oliver gazed briefly at the other demon texts he had already read before addressing Edith’s book directly.
"It’s feeding time."