Chapter 594: The Monster that Devours All (9)
"Guh… uh… urgh… guh…"
The creature, Leviathan, was an ocean monster that bore a resemblance to a crocodile. Its colossal form, cloaked in emerald scales, lay torn apart into head, upper body, and lower body, emitting sounds of escaping air.
Each severed piece of its body was being held by massive gods (거신) forged from clouds, atmosphere, sea, and rocks from the ocean's depths. These Gigantic Gods had submerged themselves in a sea dyed a disturbingly vivid red with Leviathan’s blood. It was hard to fathom, even for Leviathan, a creature of incomprehensible scale.
The creature was not a true lifeform but rather a pseudo-being born from emotions and created by human hands. Although it might appear alive, it was not genuinely so. Normally, once a creature fulfilled its purpose, it would vanish like smoke, as one example.
However, instead of disappearing like smoke, Leviathan shed torrents of bright red blood and entrails that stained the sea crimson, and its body, too, remained in the grip of the Gigantic Gods crafted by Merlin, as if it were an actual living entity.
"Is this the power of a demon?"
Merlin speculated, recalling his master’s theory that demonic power might have been involved in Leviathan’s creation, and the shadow-creature’s aura that had been controlling Leviathan. It was certainly plausible; after all, the power of demons extended far beyond what Pater Church taught.
Unperturbed by this unusual turn, Merlin reached into the air and withdrew a book—his own book.
Flipping its pages, the book came to a halt on an empty page, ready to document history Merlin himself would shape. He commanded the colossal gods of sky, sea, and earth—who held Leviathan’s fragmented body—each to extend the pieces they held.
The Sky Giant held forth Leviathan’s head, which was impaled on a lightning lance. The Sea Giant presented Leviathan’s upper body, skewered on a trident, while the Earth Giant lifted the lower body, pinned to a stone spear.
Leviathan, skewered like a piece of meat, lay lifeless, its eyes devoid of light, its tongue lolling out, and torrents of blood and viscera pouring forth like a waterfall. Attempting to dispose of it in any conventional manner would have taken centuries.
Merlin, however, took control over the space where Leviathan’s body lay and funneled it into his book. Seeing Leviathan’s massive form, drawn in like softened cheese into the confines of a small book, was astounding even in this era of magic—but this would be nothing compared to what was about to unfold.
As if to clear a bothersome task, Merlin used his magic to gather Leviathan’s blood, which had spread out across the horizon, and drew both the blood-stained seawater and the remnants of Leviathan’s flesh into his book.
The feat was nearer to a miracle than magic. And yet, Merlin felt neither satisfaction nor joy, nor a sense of superiority. Compared to the events unfolding in the distance, this had been a mere inconvenience.
...
Merlin directed his gaze towards an island near the horizon. It was an island situated at the center of the Sea of Oblivion, where something was occurring that Merlin himself could hardly describe.
Once a colonial city used as a stopping point by the United Kingdom, the island had transformed into an immense maw resembling that of a Seven-star Eel, filled with stark white flames that erased all color to void, and black shadows that even the flames could not consume, raging within.
The multiple jaws of the Seven-star Eel, layered like the petals of a flower, absorbed the residual energy of a burned one and the countless souls of children to resist the white flame and shadow, attempting to consume whatever lay inside.
Merlin felt he understood what that something was.
"…"
He understood it too well. So well, in fact, that he almost wished he didn’t.
Though its size rivaled that of Leviathan, the maw of the Seven-star Eel began to close slowly, only for a towering shadow to pierce through it, coiling around it like a serpent and ripping it apart.
"Agh… uh! Aaaaaah!"
The Seven-star Eel’s maw screamed telepathically, and as it did, the sea split and twisted, and black clouds formed in the sky.
This was neither a natural phenomenon nor a display of physical force. It was something far beyond any simple explanation, an event of a higher order that even an Archive with a thousand years of knowledge and wisdom could not easily decipher.
Craaack…!
With a deafening sound, the earth fractured, and another portion of the Seven-star Eel’s maw was torn away.
The enormous shadow greedily devoured the torn flesh, consuming it alongside the white flame, fueling its own power, yet as if it could never be satiated.
Merlin, watching this otherworldly spectacle, glanced down at the old clock he held in his hand. The clock had been found within Leviathan’s stomach and had been motionless until just now; it had started to tick again, ever so slowly.
Tick… tick… tick…
“Ha…”
Merlin let out an involuntary chuckle as he watched the clock slowly move. He found himself laughing because the situation was so terrifying, so despairing, that laughter was all his body could manage.
It was a marvel, if not horrific, how human bodies could be so wonderfully and terribly designed. Though the laughter eased his tension somewhat, it also made the despair even more apparent.
There was nothing he could do but laugh.
Despite his efforts to prevent or avert the apocalypse, nothing had worked. No, every struggle seemed to turn back on him, as though mocking him, as though asking, “Did you really think you could escape the sins of humanity so easily?”
"…ha."
With that, Merlin abandoned any last shred of hope.
The hope that it might not come to pass in his lifetime…
Or that he might somehow find a way to delay or avert the apocalypse, even by the slimmest of chances.
It became clear that the apocalypse could neither be stopped nor avoided; all that remained was to wait for it to arrive.
As he fully realized this, Merlin felt a quiet, profound dread—an existential fear that had driven every Archive to despair. Though he had believed himself prepared to face it, to accept it, actually confronting it made that resolution vanish, and two new emotions took root in its place.
The first was resentment. Though he thought he had accepted everything, a petty, irresponsible feeling rose within him—why had it come to pass in his time?
The second was a foolish hope. What if… what if he could somehow eliminate the core of this apocalyptic prophecy? Could he perhaps destroy it, or at the very least, delay it?
Astonishingly, despite recognizing his own foolishness, Merlin felt himself increasingly swayed by this second sentiment, seriously contemplating it. Though he knew, both logically and emotionally, that it was neither sensible nor right, this terror, which transcended reason, seemed to urge him toward an easier, albeit foolish, choice.
Just like any ordinary person might.
Though he had accumulated a thousand years’ worth of knowledge and wisdom, believing himself to have surpassed human thought and emotion, it became clear that the Archive, too, had not escaped human limitations.
“Ha…”
Taking a deep breath to compose himself, Merlin tucked the clock back into his pocket and rolled his neck as if loosening up for something.
And then—
“Elder?!!”
He whipped his head around. A voice—a woman’s—echoed from the center of the Sea of Oblivion. He wondered if his old age was playing tricks on his hearing, but it was no mistake. In the distance, something appeared to be flying toward him—a figure atop a dark red drake.
Seeing this, the Gigantic Gods of sky, sea, and earth, each radiating a fierce aura, stirred. Merlin raised his hand, signaling them to halt, and sent them back to their original places.
The Sea Giant dissolved into bubbles, vanishing into the ocean depths. The Sky Giant dissipated into clouds and atmosphere, merging with the heavens, while the Earth Giant, composed of immense stones, disassembled, sinking into the deep ocean. To the average observer, the return of these Gigantic Gods to their resting places would have been a terrifying sight, but the woman with pink hair, fixed her gaze unwaveringly on Merlin, showing not a flicker of fear.
Was it the courage that came from riding a dragon? Or perhaps her resolve was that strong. Whatever the case, Merlin would soon learn the answer.
“Are you the Elder? The one Dave sent me to find?”
The woman’s powerful voice reached him the moment the dragon halted before him. She looked to be well-trained, yet despite her evident education, she possessed an ordinary physique. Still, rather than appearing afraid, she studied Merlin, as though trying to assess if he was dangerous.
“Hmm… indeed, Miss Jane.”
Standing upon her dragon, Jane gave a respectful bow. Despite the unstable footing and strong winds, her posture reflected poise and resolve.
She wasn’t without fear; she simply possessed the resolve to overcome it.
Curious about what she might say, Merlin waited. More precisely, he was curious to hear what Oliver’s second friend had to say.
“Greetings. It is an immense honor to meet the esteemed Archive.”
“You know me?”
“I’ve received word from Sisterhood regarding the happenings at the Tower of Magic… There’s only one person in this world capable of taking down an ocean monster alone.”
Though her body was ordinary, Jane’s heart seemed made of steel. She spoke calmly, repressing her fear, and addressed Merlin with utmost respect.
“Forgive my intrusion, but may I ask for your assistance?”
“What sort of help do you need?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Jane pointed toward Neverland. The Seven-star Eel’s maw was half destroyed, and in its place, a shadow even larger had begun to fill the void.
A sight that would make any ordinary person lose their mind upon seeing it.
Pointing to that place, Jane made her request.
“Please… help Dave.”
“Are you willing to lend your aid?”
“Absolutely.”
Jane answered without the slightest hesitation.
...
“Guh…”
Amid the chaotic clash of pure white flames and pitch-black shadows, Oliver strained, dripping with cold sweat, to regain control over the shadow.
“Hnn…”
But his efforts were in vain.
Neither his direct attempts to control the shadow nor the flames in his right arm had any effect. It was as though someone else was controlling it, expanding infinitely, devouring Neverland transformed into the Seven-star Eel’s maw, consuming even Pan’s shadow and countless children that made up Neverland.
It was Oliver’s worst nightmare.
Using White Flame, Oliver tried to directly attack and suppress the shadow, but instead of sustaining damage, the shadow absorbed the White Flame as well.
“…”
It defied all reason.
Even with the infusion of emotions, life force, and magic from the Flesh Chef, combined with Oliver’s techniques and Pan’s creatures, Oliver’s shadow was still just a creature. Yet somehow, it was consuming even the Burnt One’s flames as if it were nothing.
The only plausible explanation for this bizarre phenomenon was that the shadow itself had somehow…
“No.”
Oliver stopped that thought dead. Because it wasn’t true. Because he’d decided it wasn’t.
So, denying the reality before him, he clung to the possibility that there might be some reason behind it. He continued trying to control the shadow, even though, as before, his efforts were fruitless.
“Obey… my command…”
Watching his shadow defy him, Oliver was struck by a familiar feeling of helplessness—the same sensation he’d experienced when he first faced the Burnt One.
An utter powerlessness to do anything.
Alongside the helplessness came despair, fear, rage, and frustration at the absurdity of a situation in which even his hardest efforts couldn’t prevent his nightmare from unfolding. Fortunately, no one had to witness this sight...
Oh.
An exclamation escaped him.
The urgency of the situation had driven him to overlook the fact that Merlin was nearby.
Of course, Merlin would not have fallen victim to the ocean monster. He must be watching all of this unfold.
As this thought dawned on him, Oliver became curious.
What would Merlin make of this scene? And, just as importantly, what action might he be compelled to take?
Even as this thought crossed his mind, he suddenly felt an intense surge of magical power and a complex spell formula emanating from the sky.
It was a distinct and otherworldly energy he had encountered once before.
Looking up, Oliver found his senses had not deceived him: high above, the shadow that had engulfed Neverland, consuming everything in its path, had been stopped, as if frozen in place.
Beyond the shadow, high in the sky, Oliver saw Merlin.
Merlin hovered in mid-air, ten books spread out before him, binding the shadow completely.
Despite the vast distance that made Merlin appear as a mere dot, Oliver could hear him as clearly as if he were standing right beside him.
“Pardon the intrusion.”
“…Please, help me.”
At that moment, Oliver released his grip on the White Flame that was recklessly spreading from his right arm, extinguishing it.
It would only be a hindrance now.
Thankfully, his right arm responded to his will.
As he moved to subdue the fiery arm, Oliver felt an ominous tremor—a few strands of shadow, bound by Merlin’s power, began to wriggle as if slowly breaking free.
Incredibly, just as it had endured the Burnt One’s flames, Oliver’s shadow had started resisting Merlin’s power that confined it, struggling in some places and gradually inching toward Merlin.
Snap.
Watching the scene, Merlin, without moving, simply snapped his fingers.
At that sound, the space containing Oliver’s shadow and Neverland’s Seven-star Eel maw shattered like glass, dispersing into powder.
The shadow’s power was significantly diminished, and Neverland, transformed into the maw of the Seven-star Eel, vanished, dissolving into the void with a final burst of force.
Oliver breathed a sigh of relief. But before he could savor it, his remaining shadow began writhing violently once again.
Enraged by the interference, the shadow reached once more toward Merlin, but lightning shot down from one of Merlin’s books, intercepting the shadow.
Though it had resisted the White Flame, the shadow recoiled, smoke rising from its tendrils as its momentum faltered. The shadow had clearly weakened.
“So why won’t it follow my command?”
As he watched the shadow defy him, Oliver’s thoughts ran wild.
Though they had averted an immediate crisis, the fundamental problem remained unsolved.
Unless Oliver could regain control over the shadow…
“Dave!!”
While looking down and straining to regain command over the shadow, he suddenly heard someone calling him from above.
The voice was unmistakable.
When he looked up, there was Jane, leaping from above.
“Dave!!”
She called to him again as she fell.
‘No.’
Oliver spoke silently to himself.
Depleted of power, having lost Neverland, the shadow now sought new sustenance.
His foreboding sense was not wrong; the shadow, subdued and weakened by Merlin’s magic, shifted its target and extended toward Jane.
In that instant, Oliver felt a peculiar sensation, as if time itself had stopped, and he had somehow stepped outside of its flow.
The shadow crept toward Jane from all directions, yet she, seeing it head-on, kept her eyes on Oliver as she plummeted, a life-risking resolve shining in her gaze.
In this suspended moment, with the shadow and Jane’s distance closing, Oliver realized one thing: if he couldn’t regain control, Jane would be devoured.
His second friend.
“…Obey my command!!”