Chapter 565: Escape (4)
In response to Oliver's summons, Child-Second and Fourth emerged from his embrace. Simultaneously, shrunken Duncan and Durance, prepared with size-reduction magic, sprang out following the preset spell formation.
Coincidentally, both of them were once traitors who betrayed their original factions. Yet, ironically, as corpse puppets, they never failed Oliver's expectations.
"Hoo..."
"Huff..."
In a fleeting moment, Oliver saw the corpses return to their original forms as the size-reduction magic was lifted. Child-Second and Fourth each entered their respective corpse puppets, Durance and Duncan. The moment they entered, they took a deep breath, then exhaled, and began to move.
The first to act was Second within Durance's corpse puppet. In the form of a stunning woman in her early thirties, Second embodied the essence of a mage, manipulating the ground beneath her feet to raise a massive stone pillar, seizing the high ground. Using her unique skill, Body Manipulation, she grew two additional arms from her shoulder blades.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
With a disturbing sound of reassembling bone and flesh, her arms transformed into gun barrels, quickly forming six firearms in total. Blue magic-infused steam seeped from the tiny holes on Durance's body, and each barrel began to emit blue flames.
A cacophony, as if dozens of machine gunners were firing simultaneously, tore through the air with violent intensity.
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat!!!
Each time the barrels spewed fire, shockwaves rippled through the air, and flesh-made bullets sliced through the crowd of approaching creatures, leaving gaping wounds in their wake.
With each wet sound of flesh tearing, massive holes appeared in most of the creatures, some losing entire limbs, torsos, or even heads entirely to the assault. This firepower was possible because Durance had inherited knowledge from a Flesh Chef of Roculi University and received muscle grafts from Life School's Grandmaster Theodore.
As the auxiliary corpse puppets joined the fray, most of the creatures were swept away like dust, and those few creatures who managed to withstand the gunfire met their match in Duncan.
Duncan, who had received the most grafts from Theodore, focused large amounts of magic power in his legs before launching himself forward.
Thunk!!
The ground shattered beneath him as an aftershock rippled out, and Duncan disappeared in a blur, reappearing before the creatures who survived the onslaught, wielding his tonfa.
With each swing of his tonfa made from flesh by Ewan, an indescribable roar rang out, and every time, the creatures were literally torn apart and vanished like smoke.
With these two corpse puppets added to the fray, hundreds of creatures perished. Observing this, the nobles, holy knights, guards, and even the boys wearing animal cloaks were all struck with terror.
They had expected a hindrance but were immediately overwhelmed as the tide turned.
Believing the situation to be under control, Oliver prepared to continue on his path, leaving the astonished boys behind. At that moment, a stout boy in a bear cloak yelled out.
"Don't be afraid! Only Pan is the true prince!"
Apparently, he was one of Pan’s followers.
Even after witnessing the annihilation of hundreds of creatures, he was courageous—or so Oliver thought.
‘Or… maybe not?’
Oliver assessed the boy's emotions. The boy's determination to keep fighting even after seeing hundreds of creatures fall was certainly brave, but something was different here.
He wasn't overcoming his fear; he was being driven by an even greater one.
Like someone choosing to enter a cage with a guard dog rather than one with a lion.
All of these boys were afraid of Pan.
"Aaagh!"
The boy in the bear cloak infused his club with black magic and swung it toward Oliver, followed by the boys in fox and raccoon cloaks aiming their air and wooden guns at him again.
Their weapons may have looked like mere toys, but even wolf creatures had died instantly at their hands.
Oliver paused briefly, as if contemplating what to do.
"Die!"
"Die!"
"Die!"
The fox and raccoon-cloaked boys shouted as they fired their wooden and air guns. Interestingly, unlike most people, they harbored little malice, displaying only a faint murderous intent. It was as if they were committing murder with indifference—a sight Oliver found strangely unsettling.
As the disease-laden bullets approached, Oliver created a dark shield to defend himself.
Fortunately, the bullets lacked the power to penetrate the shield. But then, the bear-cloaked boy struck the shield with his club.
"Die!"
Crash!
The shield shattered under the boy’s swing. As he raised his club to strike again, Oliver seized the moment, sending the shattered shield fragments hurtling toward the boys.
Crack! Crack!
The sharp shards slipped between the gaps in their attacks, making the boys flinch.
“…”
Just as the shield shards were about to tear into their soft flesh, Oliver reformed them into a wax-like substance that encased the boys’ bodies, immobilizing them.
They couldn’t move, but at least they had been spared from being ripped to pieces.
“…?!”
“What’s this?”
“What’s happening?”
Confused, the boys struggled in their restraints, unable to comprehend what had occurred. For a brief moment, they looked like any other ordinary boys.
“…”
Oliver glanced at them for a moment, then summoned a new wolf creature and climbed on its back along with Duncan and Durance.
"Heh… You’re not going to kill them?"
Just as Oliver prepared to move, a familiar yet subtly changed voice reached his ears.
"Pan?"
Oliver turned his head in the direction of the voice.
There, he saw a boy lounging casually in a tree. Although calling him a "boy" seemed slightly out of place now.
“It’s been a while.”
Oliver barely managed to swallow his question—"You've changed, haven't you?"—as he greeted Pan.
Pan indeed looked different. Not so much that he was unrecognizable, but there was a distinct shift in his appearance. His once vibrant orange hair had dulled, his skin had lost its elasticity and had wrinkled, and his voice, now deeper, hinted at the onset of puberty. His entire demeanor had also changed.
But the most noticeable transformation was in his eyes. The clear, mischievous confidence that once sparkled there was now clouded, marred by jealousy and obsession.
Given what Pan had likely endured in the New World, these changes weren’t entirely unexpected, though the magnitude of the shift was unsettling.
“You’re still as weak as ever.”
“Pardon?”
“I said, you’re weak. Both then and now... You’re too soft to even kill a single brat. If it were me, I’d have killed them already. Is there some special reason for sparing them?”
Only then did Oliver understand what Pan meant.
He must have been referring to the incident in the New World. Back then, Oliver had unconsciously protected a boy, one of Pan’s followers, from the blade of a holy knight aiming to split his head.
It had been an unconscious, reflexive action. Oliver hadn’t intentionally intervened but had blocked the knight's attack without realizing it.
Now, Pan was bringing up that moment, and the fact that Oliver hadn't killed these boys, as if accusing him.
Oliver asked in confusion.
“Um… but aren’t they your subordinates, Pan?”
“I asked why you’re not killing them.”
Pan pressed him. Oliver glanced back at the group behind him.
The nobles who had been so haughty were now terrified at Pan’s sudden appearance, and the holy knights and guards were similarly tense.
After all, Pan was capable of commanding hundreds of creatures without a second thought.
Only Armand seemed to find the situation interesting, observing it all with a hint of amusement.
'What should I do...'
Oliver pondered how to respond. He wanted to converse with Pan, but the presence of so many onlookers complicated things. Ignoring Pan and moving forward wasn’t without risks, either.
Given Pan's unstable emotions, there was no telling what he might do.
After some thought, Oliver decided to engage in conversation.
“Well… I don’t have any particular reason. They’re… young, aren’t they?”
Oliver expressed the simple, obvious fact. Though he had become established in Landa as a Fixer, he still wanted to uphold certain boundaries. Killing kids seemed a bit much.
Pan laughed at his response, though it felt insincere.
“Kekeke… Are you serious?”
“More or less… Can’t you tell?”
Oliver replied, suggesting Pan read his emotions with his warlock’s sight. Pan focused his gaze, briefly revealing his frustration when he seemed unable to discern Oliver's true intentions.
Still, he pretended as if he had.
"How kind… Should I give you a reward?"
"No, no. I appreciate the thought, but there's no need. I haven’t done anything worthy of praise or reward.”
Despite the tension, Oliver responded with genuine humility.
He knew he was far from kind.
When others starved, he would keep his soup to himself, and though his journey to mastering black magic had required killing, Oliver was fully aware of his own selfishness.
He had entered society as a Fixer out of convenience, and he didn’t hesitate to kill if necessary. After all, those he dealt with were people living on the edge of life in the underworld.
Oliver was acutely aware of his flaws.
‘Like the time I terrified an innocent family in the underground by acting on a violent impulse.’
So for him to be called “kind”? That was as discomforting as being labeled “special.”
"And you lack direction and purpose."
Pan observed Oliver’s response with disdain, muttering under his breath once more.
“Pardon?”
“You lack the desires that a warlock should have. That’s the most basic thing.”
Oliver couldn’t argue with Pan. Desire was indeed a crucial element in the study of black magic—a field where ambition, whether for wealth, power, or personal aspirations, was a driving force.
It was evident in others: Joseph honed his skills in black magic after being captivated by a luxurious hotel; Marie became Joseph’s apprentice to gain strength; and Joe joined the Fighter Crew in District X to survive.
“But you… you have nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
“I found black magic fascinating and beautiful,” Oliver replied honestly.
“What a ridiculous answer. I’m talking about goals, and you say it’s pretty and fascinating. Is beauty your goal?”
“Why can’t it be?”
“Of course it can’t! That’s just admiration! A goal has to be something desperate, something you’re willing to fight for! To live like a human, or to become something greater… Your attitude of admiring a pretty flower doesn’t cut it… Isn’t that unfair?”
Oliver was silent. He was indeed aware of his own lack of desperation, his own lack of a fervent drive.
Seeing his reaction, Pan continued with a smirk.
“Ah! You agree with me, don’t you? You understand what I’m saying! Only those who burn with desperation deserve to have a sense of direction and purpose… not someone like you, who has no fixed goal, no driving desire…”
Now that the conversation was steering in a more discernible direction, Oliver began to grasp what Pan was hinting at.
Glancing back at the group behind him, Oliver opened his mouth.
“I think I’m starting to understand what you’re getting at, Pan. But I’m not interested in your goals, so—”
Shing!!!
A hook-tipped chain shot through the air as darkness coalesced, aimed directly at Oliver.
Reacting instantly, Oliver blocked it with his quarterstaff.
This was a chain he had seen once before, back in the New World—a creation of Pan’s, crafted from shadow creatures, darkness, and human souls. Pan had once tried to use it to subdue the Burnt One, though it had ultimately failed under the sheer might of his opponent. But still, the chains had performed remarkably well, pinning him briefly in place.
Although they might not seem threatening at first glance, Oliver couldn’t ignore their strength. They had the power to sear human flesh with a mere breath.
The pressure against Oliver’s quarterstaff proved the chains' resilience.
As someone who had gained superhuman strength by consuming the flesh of the Flesh Chef, Oliver couldn’t simply shrug it off.
“Strong, aren’t they?”
“I may be resting lately, but I have been exercising.”
“Oh? Then let’s see just how hard you’ve been training!”
At Pan's shout, darkness spread like ink, enveloping the surroundings in a prison-like enclosure of shadow.
Within that shadowy cell, immense nails, spikes, barbed collars, iron maidens, and hooked chains appeared, preparing to attack. But then, Oliver awakened his shadow creature, which promptly consumed the dark barrier.
The awakened shadow devoured Pan's dark shroud in an instant and lunged toward him. Yet, upon seeing Pan’s face, Oliver hesitated for a brief moment.
Despite his counterattack being neutralized, Pan didn’t flinch. He reacted as though he had anticipated this outcome.
Pan’s gaze shifted somewhere in the distance, and almost instinctively, Oliver’s eyes followed.
In that instant, Oliver saw it.
The fish-like creatures he had spotted by the lake were now burrowing into the ground like moles, drawing lake water toward their location.
He doubted the possibility of such a feat, but his uncertainty evaporated when he saw the massive reptilian hand emerging from beneath the lake, a presence that felt immense enough to blot out the sky and bring darkness.
Oliver instinctively recognized it as the sea monster recently mentioned in the newspapers.
“Leviathan. Strike.”
…
Beeeep!!
Dust clouded the air, the sky and earth seemed to swap places, the ground trembled, and Oliver’s ears filled with a strange ringing.
He had no idea what was happening.
He remembered the massive lake formed as the ground caved in, the enormous reptilian hand rising from beneath, and Pan’s voice commanding it to strike.
It was colossal, surpassing even a giant, blotting out the sky with its overwhelming size and the unmistakable presence of the Burnt One’s energy.
When Pan issued his command, the monster’s hand responded, twitching as if reluctantly, but then moved as though forcibly directed, striking the ground where Oliver and his group stood.
It was a slow, imprecise attack, but the sheer size of the monster’s arm, covered in scales as tough as overlapping plates of steel, was enough to make it a disaster.
The ground sank as if struck by a massive drill, leaving many injured and bleeding, with holy knights tending to the wounded and Oliver’s battered corpse puppets that had taken the brunt of the impact.
‘Duncan threw a giant punch, Durance fired cannon shots, and the auxiliary corpse puppets bombarded it.’
As Oliver surveyed the shattered corpse puppets, he recalled his actions just before the reptilian hand struck.
He had commanded his corpse puppets to unleash their most powerful attacks, and Oliver himself, alongside his shadow creature, had desperately tried to hold back the hand.
But its size and the Burnt One’s energy-laden power were too overwhelming.
Even with limited time to react, the impact was devastating, and as he regained his memory of the events, two questions emerged.
The first was why the monster hadn’t attacked again, despite the opportunity being perfect, and the second was Jane’s whereabouts.
“There she is!”
A victorious shout rang out.
Oliver turned sharply to see Jane held in the monstrous grip of the creature, with Pan, the boys in bear, fox, and raccoon cloaks, standing nearby.
In the brief moment Oliver had failed to halt the monster’s hand, Jane had been captured.
The sight was unexpected and left him momentarily stunned, his pupils dilating in shock.
Seeing Oliver’s reaction, Pan smiled with deep satisfaction.
“Now you, too, can feel what it’s like to be desperate.”
Before Oliver could respond, Pan opened a portal of darkness, vanishing from sight, leaving only the boy in the raccoon cloak behind.
Oliver stood there, dazed, staring at the now-empty space.