Chapter 592: The Monster That Swallows Everything (7)
Tatata...!
After Oliver spoke, silence fell over the darkened Neverland.
The only sound that broke the quiet was the crackling of burning shadows.
The silence remained unbroken until the hole in the sky, which had been pierced by the Flesh Chef-turned-Blood Dragon, finally began to close.
"...."
"..."
Oliver and Pan stood face-to-face, neither of them speaking.
Slowly, the gap in the sky closed, restoring Neverland to a perfectly enclosed space once more.
"You really want to talk to me... for real?"
At last, Pan broke the silence.
"Yes, Pan-nim."
"Ah, so I guess the earlier attempt at conversation was just pretend?"
"..."
"Oh...! Or could it be because of Wendy? Are you worried she'd hear something troubling?"
Pan taunted Oliver, voicing his anger at Oliver’s infiltration of Neverland's barrier.
Oliver, however, didn’t react.
Provocation held little importance to Oliver.
"No, I just happened to use the word 'real' while speaking."
And he said no more, as if that were all there was to it.
Whether this was true or not, Pan let it drop.
"...Fine. What does it matter... Let's talk, then. I’m curious. We don’t exactly have the sort of relationship that warrants a conversation, do we?"
It was true.
They had encountered each other four times now—in the Laville sewers, the abandoned mines of the New World, the Gallos party, and here in Neverland. None of those meetings had been cordial.
Even so, Oliver said something unexpected.
"Do you, by any chance, have any thoughts of reconciling with me?"
Crack...
The sound of burning wood filled the air once more.
It was hard to believe even for Pan, no matter how insane he might be.
Pan asked, "...Are you serious?"
"Yes."
"Madness... You really are."
Pan’s expression showed quiet astonishment.
Within Oliver’s hollow-seeming heart, Pan could detect the faintest sliver of sincerity and intent.
Right now, Oliver was speaking with genuine intent—he truly wanted to make peace with Pan, and he was displaying considerable resolve in doing so.
Finding the idea utterly absurd, Pan burst into laughter.
"Keek! Keek! Keek!... You really are insane, aren’t you? Or do you just—"
Pan abruptly erased his grin, his face hardening.
"—see me as a joke?"
A faint crease formed on the boyish face, deepened by the extreme shadows, giving Pan a presence that would make even seasoned warriors recoil.
Regardless of his youthful appearance, his fingers were no mere child's.
Yet Oliver remained unshaken.
For Oliver, there was something far more pressing than the clash of wills with Pan.
Perhaps because of this, the stony mask on Oliver’s face shifted ever so slightly.
A sense of intent, previously absent from his dry, emotionless expression, began to take form.
It was subtle, yet undeniable.
"I don’t take you lightly, Pan-nim... I’m just sincerely hoping to make amends."
Instead of sneering, Pan asked him,
"...Why? You should want to tear me to pieces, right? Isn't that the case? After all, I kidnapped your dear friend. …Or is Wendy actually not all that precious to you? If I had known that..."
"-She is a dear friend. And it’s also true that I want revenge against you."
Sincerity.
"I want to grab your neck and snap it, to shatter your skull with a quarterstaff, to stomp on you until you burst like a tomato, to rip each limb off so you’d crawl through the dirt, to pull out your entrails while you’re still alive, to crush your eyes, to strip off your skin, to burn you alive, and to make you cry in agony."
Oliver spoke these words, recalling each thing he had already done in the dark woods to the Princess in Slumber.
He had done everything but make her cry.
That was...
"Are you serious?"
"Shamefully, yes."
"Then why aren't you doing it?"
Instead of replying right away, Oliver slowly stroked the quarterstaff in his left hand.
The gift Kent had given him.
"Because... it's too addictive."
"What?"
"I said, it’s addictive. It’s too enjoyable."
"And that’s a problem why? If you enjoy it, keep doing it!"
Pan retorted.
It was a fair point.
If one has power, what reason would there be not to use it? Especially in a time like this.
Oliver, however, could not answer immediately, perhaps because he didn’t have a definitive answer. He slumped down and scratched his head, deep in thought.
Why was that? Why shouldn't he keep doing it? Was it because it was morally wrong? Because society would deem it improper? Or just because it looked bad? Was it distasteful?
Each reason held truth, but Oliver couldn’t voice any of them.
Each one felt somehow inadequate.
Instead, he offered another reason, one he could accept most readily.
Conversation requires sincerity.
"...To remain true to myself."
That was it.
The reason Oliver resisted his desire to kill Pan horrifically was to stay true to himself.
To Oliver—to remain himself.
The self that Kent admired.
'...I appreciate your unique nature.'
The self that Mari valued.
'...Dave-nim saved us, after all.'
The self that Joe treasured.
‘Because you are my... no, our hero.’
The friend that Jane knew.
‘...Yes! I’d love to be your friend!’
The self that worked alongside Forest.
‘How many chances in my life do I have to work with a friend like you?’
The self that Joanna believed in.
‘Then I’ll believe in you. No matter what happens, I’ll trust, support, and help you.’
And, the self that Oliver himself acknowledged.
‘I am simply who I am.’
Oliver wished to hold onto these words as a compass, amid the despairing situation in front of him.
As a support to withstand the fear that crept upon him in waves.
As a pillar to endure the reality he so desperately wanted to ignore and deny.
Thus, Oliver decided to forego the emotional revenge.
In order to remain purely himself.
Hearing Oliver's determination, Pan suddenly burst out laughing.
"...Kekeke... Kihihihik! Kahahahahah!"
It wasn’t a laugh born of joy but one of disbelief.
For several minutes, Pan’s laughter echoed around them, and Oliver quietly watched him.
This, too, was a form of conversation.
-Tick.
Inside the perfectly enclosed Neverland, Pan’s laughter stopped abruptly, as sharp as a knife.
At the same time, Pan opened his mouth.
"...No, it’s not right. It’s not right. I have to be the prince..."
Pan’s demeanor mirrored when he had attacked the Burnt One in the New World.
Oliver silently observed Pan.
"...Isn’t that right? I’m far more fitting than you, a pathetic little runt who doesn’t even want this? I’m the one who deserves to be someone special, right? That’s what’s fair!"
As Pan’s voice rose, his emotions—greed and obsession—gleamed visibly.
Oliver asked then, genuinely curious.
"Why are you so obsessed with being special? You’re already extraordinary, are you not?"
Though Oliver’s tone was calm and unremarkable, his words settled over the area like water quenching fire.
"...What?"
"I heard about you from Miss Jane on my way here."
"..."
"It sounds like you’ve been through quite a bit. You cared for your sick mother, they say... I don’t have a mother myself, so I don’t fully understand."
"...What are you trying to say?"
Oliver continued to stroke his quarterstaff.
The gift Kent had given him.
"...I’m saying that, in my eyes, you are already remarkable. Taking care of your ailing mother alone, working hard as a chimney sweep, refusing to give up despite illness, learning black magic by yourself."
Oliver briefly mentioned what Jane had read from Pan's diary.
She’d read about Pan's hardships under a mother who insisted she was royalty, and how that had led to Pan being bullied by his peers.
Then, while in despair from a cancer known to affect chimney sweeps, he suddenly found himself capable of black magic.
The details weren’t entirely clear...
"…Don’t you think that’s enough to make you special?"
Oliver based his words on Jane’s speculations.
It was likely that Pan’s obsession with being special was fueled by trauma from his past and the mental scars left by his mother’s demands.
Just as the Flesh Chef had poured his all into his little sister to alleviate the guilt of abandoning her, Pan’s obsession with being extraordinary stemmed from his own tormented past.
It was a plausible conclusion.
After all, creation-type black magic was the branch most sensitive to the caster’s psyche.
If Neverland, the pinnacle of creation-type black magic, contained such a diary, it would not be an exaggeration to say it revealed Pan’s deepest secrets.
"So, why must you cling to something as trivial as a doomsday obsession?"
"...A trivial doomsday obsession?"
"Yes. I say this because you are already remarkable."
Oliver repeated the sentiment based on Jane’s account of Pan’s past and the Flesh Chef’s history.
Though the Flesh Chef was a man-eating ghoul, his affection for his sister had allowed him to rise to the rank of a Finger over centuries.
Pan, too, had ascended to a Finger position, albeit driven by his mother’s brainwashing.
Morality aside, it was an impressive achievement.
Though he had committed many horrific acts along the way, Oliver tried to avoid dwelling on that. He didn’t believe he had the right to judge.
Therefore, Oliver chose to approach this logically and pursue his goal.
Noting Oliver's determination, Pan responded.
"...Are you serious?"
"Yes... So, why don’t we make peace and resolve this amicably?"
Oliver spoke with utmost sincerity.
With Merlin handling the sea monster, he figured Pan could be reasoned with, potentially changing the course Oliver feared...
While he had other plans, this was the best-case scenario.
As someone with priorities beyond defeating Pan, it was a selfish wish born of fear.
At that moment, Pan suddenly asked,
"Thanks for the flattery... but I’m curious about something. In your life, have you ever shouted?"
"Excuse me?"
"How many times have you truly cried out in life?"
Oliver pondered the dictionary definition, but Pan seemed to imply something different and continued to clarify.
"I’m asking if you've ever screamed out of anger or resentment. Or maybe because life was just... too hard. How many times have you shouted like that?"
To fulfill his part in the conversation, Oliver took a moment to think.
Angry, resentful, or exhausted with life... He supposed he had experienced some of these feelings before.
His time in the orphanage and mines had been full of hardship and injustice.
But as for screaming because of it? Probably not.
As if he could see through Oliver’s thoughts, Pan continued, speaking with a tone that suggested he already knew the answer.
"Seems you haven’t, huh?"
"...There was one time. I cried out once, when it hurt."
Oliver managed to recall one occasion.
During his duel with Merlin upon returning from the New World, he had let out a single loud scream.
The pain was overwhelming when his right arm was shackled.
But this answer didn’t satisfy Pan, who shook his head.
"I didn’t mean a scream of pain."
"Is there really a difference?"
"That’s exactly the issue. It’s why I can’t stand you."
Pan pointed at Oliver, his eyes full of envy and loathing.
"Every single thing you do, it’s like you think you're different from the rest of us."
"I don’t mean it that way."
"That’s what makes me hate you even more. You don’t even realize it’s real—you’re just a coward who keeps running away, yet you hold yourself in such high regard... and you're the one who was chosen... It's just unfair!"
Despite his efforts, Oliver had foreseen the direction this conversation might take, as he absently rubbed a small cut on his fingertip, blood seeping out.
If possible, he really had wanted to make peace. He hoped Merlin would deal with the sea monster and that he himself could settle things with Pan peacefully.
But it wasn’t going as planned.
"Unlike you, I’m not a coward. I’ll twist fate itself if I have to and become a prince!"
"..."
Pan’s words seemed to flash through Oliver’s mind, jolting him. Twisting the end of all things to become a prince? It was a notion that deserved some thought.
But Pan gave him no time to consider it.
With a shout, Pan’s fiery shadow began to exert its control over the closed-off Neverland.
Countless creatures sprang up from the ground, and all around them, various chains and iron tools for capture and torture erupted from the void.
These were the same implements he had used to trap the Burnt One.
A horde of monsters and iron mechanisms converged on Oliver from all sides.
Horrifying beings and rusted, clanging metal filled the air, as Oliver was surrounded by terrible cries and the rattling of chains.
As he looked at the scene, Oliver felt a pang of regret over the failed negotiation, and at the same time, a tempting thought stirred within him. Twisting fate...
Turning these words over in his mind, Oliver activated a spell he had prepared earlier.
[Greedy Flame]
A complex spell blending both emotion and mana.
This time, however, he mixed in a single drop of blood from his fingertip.
Because of this, the fist-sized flame spread quickly across Neverland as if consuming it as fuel.
The black flames spread in all directions, sinking their teeth into everything, reducing everything to ash. The black tongues of flame licked every corner, feeding the blaze.
The monstrous fire quickly consumed the creatures and iron mechanisms, using them as fuel, growing until it filled all of the enclosed space of Neverland.
Victory seemed certain.
And yet, Pan was smiling.
As if he had anticipated this all along.
The reason for his confidence soon became apparent.
"Shadow!"
At Pan’s command, his entire body blazing like a log on a fire, the shadow he called the Burnt One moved.
Hoo...
The shadow exhaled, causing the advancing flames to split and swerve around Pan. And that wasn’t all.
Snap!
The shadow flicked its fingers, igniting a tiny red-orange spark that spread across the flames, engulfing them and spreading over the area.
Flame devouring flame.
The black fire that filled Neverland took on a new color, and Pan, watching the scene, laughed like a madman.
"Kehehehehe! Did you think I wouldn’t prepare for something like this?!"
The flame that swallowed Greedy Flame now surrounded Oliver.
Watching this, Pan stepped forward, seemingly overwhelmed with victory.
"I’ll roast you till you’re crisp and let Neverland consume you whole..."
Pan took another step forward, passing by the Burnt One’s shadow.
"...and make you my sustenance..."
He was now standing directly before the shadow, and the shadow placed both hands on Pan’s shoulders.
"...What—"
With a gaping mouth, the shadow swallowed Pan whole.
[...I... I am the prince...]
Without even a scream, Pan was devoured, starting from his head.
The shadow lifted Pan’s body, one part at a time, like a snake swallowing its prey whole.
His head, neck, shoulders, arms, chest, waist, and finally his legs—all of Pan disappeared into the shadow.
Oliver, surrounded by fire, watched the scene intently, unmoved by the scorching heat.
Though he wasn’t entirely surprised.
At first, Pan’s shadow had been completely subservient, unable to resist Pan until it perished. But that had only been because Pan’s power over it had been absolute.
However, with the blessing of the Burnt One, Pan’s shadow had surpassed those limits.
It now had both power and its own will, magnified to an extraordinary degree.
And the defining trait of a shadow was that it was a reflection of the caster’s self.
For Pan’s shadow to turn on its master was not an unexpected outcome.
When Jane had been controlled like a puppet by her shadow, it had been due to the same principle.
For this very reason, Oliver had always taken care to keep his own shadow tightly in check.
[...I am the... prince...]
The shadow, having consumed Pan up to his ankles, began manipulating Neverland like an oven.
It fueled the inner flames until the space became a fiery hellscape.
The temperature continued to rise, and even Oliver, with his resistance to flame, found it hard to bear.
Mana and emotion, anything that left his body was instantly incinerated by the extreme heat.
It was a seemingly inescapable situation.
At that moment, Oliver subtly unwrapped the bandage around his right index finger.
Sss...
The bandage that Merlin had tied unraveled slightly, revealing an index finger charred like a burnt twig.
As a last resort, Oliver placed his exposed finger on the burning ground.
Boom!
A brilliant white flame exploded outward, incinerating the surrounding flames and consuming Neverland whole.