Chapter 570: Request for Assistance (3)
Drizzle…
After completely burying Duncan’s body to create a small grave, Oliver took out a bottle of liquor he’d brought and poured it over the makeshift tombstone.
“Would anyone like a drink?”
Oliver, having downed about half of the bottle, offered some to Forest, Jo, and Mari, who had been waiting nearby.
Forest was seated on a tree root, while Jo and Mari stood upright.
“I wouldn’t mind.”
Forest, fond of alcohol, accepted, though Jo and Mari politely declined—they wanted to show respect in front of Oliver.
Respecting their preferences, Oliver poured a glass only for Forest, then raised the rest of the bottle and drank directly from it himself.
Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.
Seeing him empty the bottle so swiftly made everyone’s eyebrows furrow. They couldn’t quite put their finger on it, but something seemed different about Oliver.
“...Thank you again for coming, especially on such short notice.”
After finishing the bottle, Oliver spoke.
“As I said before, no need to thank us. If the face of our business calls, we’re bound to answer.”
In an effort to lighten the peculiar tension filling the air, Forest answered half in jest, half sincerely. Though Oliver was indeed the face and central figure of the redevelopment company, that alone wasn’t the reason they’d come. They’d come willingly because Oliver had called.
“So, what’s going on? It’s unusual for you to summon us like this—it’s almost a little scary.”
In response to Forest’s considerate question, Oliver countered with a question of his own.
“...Before I answer, may I ask first if you’ve heard any recent rumors about me?”
The question brought a change to Forest’s gaze; it wasn’t a mere impression—his expression had truly shifted.
“I’ve heard them. In our world, information is life… I heard that while you were searching for the Flesh Chef’s Legacy, a few…incidents occurred?”
“Yes, though I hadn’t initially planned on it, things turned out that way.”
Forest showed no outward reaction, but he was quite taken aback inside.
Although the full details were unclear, the key point was that Oliver had fought Puppet, one of the Black Hand’s “Fingers,” as an equal.
Puppet, the immortal old monster who’d survived countless centuries of threats from wizards and holy knights alike.
It was, without a doubt, an incredible tale.
It didn’t even compare to toppling Seamus, the living legend of Landa’s Fixer world. Rumor had it that a new Finger had arisen—such was the magnitude of the achievement.
While Forest couldn’t help but admire Oliver, he was also concerned.
In their line of work, fame and power acted as medicine but could become poison if taken in excess—especially for black magicians.
Amidst these thoughts, Oliver dropped an even more shocking revelation.
“Soon, I intend to face Pan as well.”
Forest, Jo, Mari, and even the air itself seemed to freeze in that moment.
As if struck by a massive explosion followed by an eerie silence, nobody dared to speak until Forest finally mustered the courage, aided by the strength of his drink.
“Pan…as in the Eternal Child, Pan?”
“Yes, Pan, the Black Hand Finger known as the Eternal Child.”
“And…why?”
“Miss Jane has been kidnapped. She’s my friend.”
With that, all doubt was dispelled.
There were still many questions, but there was only one thing they needed to know—that Oliver had a reason to challenge Pan, one of the Black Hand’s representatives, and that reason was acceptable.
For most people, such a statement would raise doubts about its truth or intent, but words weigh differently depending on who says them. Oliver was beyond question.
Oliver seemed polite, almost weak at times, but he was also the craziest person any of them knew.
As proof, he was now saying something utterly insane.
“Of course, if it can be resolved through conversation, I’ll try that first. But if not, I will fight. That’s why I’m telling you now. Though I don’t fully understand the implications, I believe there could be significant consequences. If something does happen, I’d like to ask you to be prepared.”
“...Well, you’ve always been a madman, but now, it seems you’re even more of one.”
“I apologize for acting so recklessly.”
After his one-sided declaration, Oliver apologized. It was so typical of him.
“Forget it. What’s there to apologize for… If it were anyone else, sure, but coming from you, it’s hardly surprising.”
“I somehow feel even more apologetic.”
“It’s unsettling, but it’s fine. That reckless side of you is probably what’s brought you this far.”
Forest spoke with sincerity. Regardless of their reservations, the truth was that they were all gathered here because of Oliver.
Had Oliver acted in a “normal” way, Forest might never have had a chance to rebuild, the Fighter Crew wouldn’t have escaped the Flesh Chef’s clutches, and Mari wouldn’t have arrived in Landa, eventually renaming her organization to reflect her choices.
Everyone here had benefitted from Oliver’s incomprehensible, mad actions. Because of this, none of them could resent his sudden decision—it would be like denying their own lives.
“But do you even know where Pan is? Pan and Puppet are the Fingers whose whereabouts are kept hidden.”
“No, I don’t know. But I’ve heard of someone who does, so I plan to head there first.”
“Plan? You certainly have drive. Where is this?”
“Bean City.”
“Bean City?”
Jo, who’d been listening quietly, murmured the unfamiliar name. Forest kindly explained.
“It’s a city of black magicians across the sea. Technically, it’s a city of pirates, smugglers, and black magicians. They say it was built upon the corpse of a giant god, though whether that’s true is anyone’s guess… And someone there knows Pan’s location?”
“Yes, a pirate captain named Hook, apparently.”
“Captain Hook… I’ve heard of him. A troublesome black magician pirate. Do you know the way to Bean City? The terrain is rugged and complicated, and the surrounding land is contaminated, so there’s no official route.”
“Please don’t worry. Ewan will be assisting me.”
“That makes me even more worried.”
Forest, who had some knowledge of Ewan, expressed his honest thoughts.
Oliver agreed but assured Forest nonetheless.
“We’ve made a deal, so it should be fine. He may run off with debts, but he wouldn’t discard a deal this serious.”
“There’s something off about that logic… Ah well, it’s going to get busy again, isn’t it? At least the redevelopment of District X is nearly done—that’s a relief, I suppose.”
Oliver had an idea of what was making Forest uneasy.
If he fought Pan on top of his battle with Puppet and the rumors about a new Finger emerging, the aftermath would be unimaginable.
A boulder dropped into a pond ripples differently than a pebble.
Not only was the underworld already in turmoil after the Flesh Chef’s death, but even the paladins aboveground might react unexpectedly.
And since Oliver was a black magician, there was no doubt the paladins would have to keep him in check.
That was their identity as paladins.
Still, Forest didn’t blame or criticize Oliver.
From the start, he’d chosen to walk behind Oliver, to clear and manage the paths Oliver forged. While it gave him a headache, he only pondered these issues to guide things in the best possible direction.
But it was undeniable that he did have a headache. At that moment, Oliver called out to Forest.
“Forest, there’s something else I’d like to tell you. It’s more of a public matter than a personal one.”
“Now that makes me a little nervous.”
“It’s a story that makes me nervous, too.”
“I’m just joking… What is it?”
“The archbishop of the Pater Church, and chancellor of Gallos, His Excellency Armand, has made me a proposal. He’s asked me to fill the void left by the Flesh Chef.”
“...?”
“In exchange, he said he would legitimize black magicians.”
...
Despite the busyness of it all, Oliver took the time to explain Armand’s proposal to Forest, Jo, and Mari. He’d met with Armand at a noble gathering, where the archbishop outlined a potential alliance.
The reactions from the three mirrored Oliver’s initial response—they all wondered if it was even possible. However, once Oliver recounted Armand’s reasoning, they found themselves conceding to its plausibility.
Ironically, the paladins, the archenemies of black magicians, might actually be the ones with the authority to grant black magic some form of legitimacy.
“Was he sincere about it?”
“Yes. Though his proposal was certainly backed by specific intentions and goals, there was no malice.”
“Still, wouldn’t it be hard to trust him entirely?”
“I find it difficult to even imagine,” Jo and Mari interjected, their disbelief evident. And Oliver could understand that.
Jo and Mari, like Oliver, came from the lower ranks of society. Trusting someone like Armand wasn’t easy.
Even if Armand’s personal integrity was reliable, the social chasm between them and people of Armand’s class meant that true trust was rarely feasible. After all, they inhabited different worlds.
But Forest, who’d served as a broker and dealt with both high and low classes alike, had a different take on the matter. He saw at least some merit in considering Armand’s offer.
“And how did you respond?”
“I refused… I have doubts about whether I’m capable of filling that role.”
“So, that means you’re open to it now?”
“No, I still have doubts. I’m uncertain if I can carry out such a responsibility… But maybe I could. I’ll see how things unfold.”
Though it seemed like a somewhat careless answer, Forest could tell that Oliver’s words reflected a significant decision he’d made internally. Oliver’s unusually proactive stance was probably influenced by that very resolve.
Thus, Forest had only one thing left to say.
“Thank you for telling me. I’ll consider it and see how we might proceed.”
Instead of dissecting and questioning every point, Forest concluded the conversation simply. This wasn’t from a lack of interest but rather a deeper observation and empathy for Oliver’s resolve, which hadn’t gone unnoticed by Oliver, who nodded in appreciation.
“Understood. Thank you.”
“Anything else you’d like to discuss?”
“No, that’s all.”
“Then, let’s wrap up here. I’ll need to start preparing since things look like they’re going to get busy.”
Forest rose from where he’d been seated, which signaled Jo and Mari to move as well.
“Mari, could you stay a bit longer?”
Among the departing group, Oliver singled Mari out, and though she looked surprised, she quickly nodded, while Forest and Jo, sensing the moment, stepped away.
Now alone, Oliver and Mari. After checking his watch, Oliver began speaking bluntly.
“Mari, you haven’t been using that power, right?”
“That power?”
“The black magic unique to you that dyes your entire body black.”
“Oh, yes… As Dave requested, I haven’t been using it.”
“Thank you. I appreciate you keeping that promise.”
“No, it’s only right to keep a promise… But may I ask why you’re bringing this up?”
“Please don’t use that power from now on.”
“What?”
Mari’s response was tinged with the faintest hint of resistance.
And it was understandable. After all, the black magic Oliver had banned was Mari’s most powerful one.
That magic, which turned her whole body black, not only gave her superhuman physical strength but also remarkable regenerative abilities.
Using conventional black magic felt almost unnecessary after experiencing such power.
One only had to recall Mari’s duel with Oliver in the past and her recent clash with Puppet’s powerful companion, Lilith, to understand its potency.
Despite being a direct product of the Tower of Magic’s secret project, Lilith was evenly matched with Mari. In fact, Mari even managed to overpower her, slicing off one of her arms.
So to ask her not to use such a technique in the future was, understandably, a rather unreasonable request.
“If that is Dave’s order… But—may I ask why?”
Although Oliver considered evading the question, Mari’s intent gaze urged him to be forthright. After all, Mari was directly involved and deserved an explanation.
'If I explain it properly, she might be able to avoid using it.'
With that in mind, Oliver began describing the experience he’d had while acquiring the Flesh Chef’s Legacy and his encounter with a prince candidate from the White Swan Sect.
This person possessed superhuman strength, endurance, and regenerative abilities that rivaled even the best of black magic—and a mysterious summoned creature of formidable strength.
“Mari’s black magic bears a striking resemblance to his.”
“...Did that person, by any chance, also have a ‘black hand’?”
Oliver nodded in response.
“Yes, it was different from yours, but there was indeed a black hand above his head—a hand that only I could see… That’s the main reason I asked you not to use it. I believe it may be connected to demons.”
He revealed his honest thoughts.
The black hand, visible only to him, was still shrouded in mystery. Yet, Oliver suspected a link to demonic forces.
After all, that “black hand” had appeared on a prince candidate who worshipped the demons of the White Swan Sect.
“Dave, I swear, I’ve never made a pact with demons or worshipped them.”
“I know, Mari. That wasn’t my implication… It’s just that among the demonology texts I’ve read, there are instances where demons unilaterally grant power… Either way, I understand you’re not that type of person. So, please don’t worry.”
“In that case, wouldn’t it be safe to use it?”
Oliver paused at Mari’s unexpected question.
“What do you mean by ‘in that case’?”
“I think the main reason Dave doesn’t want me to use it is due to potential side effects. But since I’ve neither worshipped nor made deals with demons, I believe there would be none.”
Oliver raised an eyebrow.
Surprisingly, Mari’s point wasn’t entirely wrong. When a demon granted power unilaterally, there were indeed no direct consequences or side effects.
Because it was a one-sided grant, the instances recorded in books were exceedingly rare, but Mari appeared to be one of those rare cases. However—
“—It’s likely that demons aren’t simply giving it away without any intention. Should you grow dependent on that power, they might eventually seek to tempt you.”
“If I may, could I ask one more thing?”
“...Yes, go ahead.”
“Do you believe I possess that much worth? Enough for a demon to tempt me?”
Oliver hesitated, caught off guard by her question.
“...Yes, you once expanded the influence of an entire congregation singlehandedly.”
“The accomplishments of a disciple are attributed to the power of their god, not to themselves.”
Mari dismissed his response. Oliver remained silent.
“I apologize for my audacity, Dave… But if I truly have received such power, then I believe it’s due to you, not me.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because… Dave, you are special.”
With great restraint, Mari limited herself to a simple statement despite wanting to extol Oliver’s virtues with a hundred words more.
She told him he was special. Because to her, he was.
Oliver was the one who’d brought meaning to a life that could have been born and died without any significance.
And in response to Mari’s words, Oliver spoke, his face tinged with a subtle sadness, though he remained expressionless.
“I don’t want to be special. Being special is far too heavy, difficult, and lonely.”