Chapter 599: Twisted Persuasion (2)
“I... wish... to make a deal.”
The figure called Unyielding Knee, using a corpse, proposed this to Oliver.
At the sudden proposition, Oliver could only tilt his head in confusion.
But he soon realized something.
“Your goal... was to meet me, wasn’t it?”
Perhaps due to his life in Landa or recent events, Oliver’s perception had sharpened, and he quickly caught on.
Maybe, for the first time, Oliver had come to view the world in a way that included himself as part of it.
It was unclear exactly when this shift happened, but up until recently, Oliver had perceived the world as something separate from himself.
In any case, Oliver, looking at Unyielding Knee, who was now discolored with patches all over his body and with one leg transformed into mere flesh, checked to see if his suspicion was correct.
Unfortunately, Oliver’s assumption proved true.
Unyielding Knee answered him through silence and expression alone.
“Hmm...”
Involuntarily, Oliver murmured aloud, and in response, Unyielding Knee moved his hands.
He was using sign language.
Oliver recalled that the prince candidate could not speak properly. Realizing this, he apologized, explaining that he couldn’t understand sign language, prompting Unyielding Knee to communicate again through a ring and the corpse.
“Is this... unexpected?”
The question about whether it was unexpected.
Oliver hesitated, unsure of what to say, and instead studied Unyielding Knee’s face.
Unexpected? If he were honest, it was hard to deny.
Meeting the Red-skinned warlock from First Step, a colony city across the sea in the New World, here on the Old Continent was indeed something he would never have anticipated.
More than that, he hadn’t expected Unyielding Knee to still be alive.
After all, Unyielding Knee’s tribe had summoned a demon together with Pan, and they had all perished in the process.
The sight was still vivid in his memory.
Over a hundred people burned like logs on a fire.
Red-skinned men and women drumming and dancing around, the shrieks of a red-skinned girl giving birth to death.
The one born atop such terrible sacrifice: the Burnt One.
Though he hadn’t had the chance to look closely at the time, Oliver had assumed that every one of the red-skinned people had died, and indeed, most had.
Yet, not all. Right now, one stood before him.
Though his form was entirely unexpected—that of a White Swan Sect prince candidate.
A long silence filled the space as Oliver gathered his thoughts.
The silence was thick and dense, as if weighing down the air, making it hard for anyone to speak, but Oliver, seemingly exempt from that restriction, managed to speak easily.
“To be honest, yes, it is quite surprising. I never imagined that Unyielding Knee would be a new prince candidate, or that I would meet you here, let alone...”
He paused for a moment before continuing.
“...I certainly didn’t expect you to propose a deal to me.”
It was genuine.
The reason being none other than Unyielding Knee’s emotional state.
He harbored intense hatred for Oliver.
More than just animosity one might feel toward an adversary in the underworld, it was a specific, profound hatred, the kind you might have for a sworn enemy.
Understandable, perhaps, since, despite their brief encounters, Oliver had interfered with him several times, such as during his attack on General Philip or the demon summoning.
“...I didn’t expect this either. But now... I know.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Oliver asked, curious about his last words, though no answer came.
“I’m sorry... but there’s... no time.”
Unyielding Knee communicated that they had little time left to engage in minor conversation.
After all, Bin City’s City Guard was already en route to this location.
Given the precautions he’d taken to initiate the conversation, it was evident he wanted to speak in secrecy, and Oliver, also eager to get answers, obliged, willing to follow the conversation’s flow.
“What kind of deal do you want?”
Curious about the reason for such an elaborate, covert meeting, Oliver asked.
Perhaps due to recent incidents that heightened his sensitivity, he felt oddly compelled, and indeed, Unyielding Knee’s answer was unexpected.
“We... ask you... not to... interfere.”
Don’t interfere? That was too vague for Oliver to comprehend the request’s meaning.
Unyielding Knee clarified further.
“Do not involve yourself... in matters of the White Swan Sect. From now... we will keep... a low profile.”
Using the corpse’s vocal cords, a chilling voice squeezed out to communicate the last remaining prince candidate’s intent.
After hearing Unyielding Knee’s request, Oliver had plenty to say in response. For instance, why was he coming to him with such a proposal?
As long as no one provoked him, Oliver had never initiated any hostility either.
But Oliver went for a more fundamental question, which was practically an answer in itself.
“What are you planning... that requires me not to interfere?”
Indeed.
The request from Unyielding Knee was absurdly contradictory.
Claiming they would “keep a low profile” and then telling him not to meddle in White Swan Sect affairs.
Such words only confirmed they had no intention of remaining quiet. If they were truly going to stay quiet, they wouldn’t have felt the need to say anything in the first place.
Furthermore, the recent murders of other prince candidates, concentrating power in the hands of one, was already far from a quiet approach.
City officials, from Mayor Jack to even the lowly City Guard, were already concerned about Bin City’s security.
And with the White Swan Sect’s very nature, a group that worships apocalypse and demons, it was impossible for him to overlook.
“Not to mention Unyielding Knee’s history with demon summoning.”
The dark sorcerers, still in turmoil over the Finger’s death...
The White Swan Sect suddenly resurging from dormancy...
Unyielding Knee, who had previously helped summon a demon...
Looking at the tapestry of coincidences and inevitable connections woven together in this situation, Oliver felt an uncanny sense of dread and asked directly.
“Are you planning... an apocalypse?”
“Yes.”
...
Yes.
Without the slightest hesitation, Unyielding Knee answered Oliver’s question about ending the world.
Not only did he respond without delay, but he did so almost as if he had been waiting for that question, which left Oliver startled.
While it was true Unyielding Knee had attempted to summon a demon to burn down the entire city of First Step, the scale and meaning of an apocalypse were worlds apart from that.
At the very least, it wasn’t a matter to be answered so straightforwardly.
“Why would you... want to do that? No matter what—”
“—Does it matter... why?”
The corpse of the former prince candidate, whose fingers had been torn off, interrupted Oliver’s question.
“...Wouldn’t it matter? We’re talking about an apocalypse, aren’t we?”
Oliver mentioned the gravity of the concept of apocalypse.
Apocalypse—the word itself was easy to say, thanks to the blessing of language, yet it wasn’t a term to be uttered lightly.
It signified the end of everything. Simply put, it implied the death of every human.
Men, women, the young, the old, people with disabilities, those without, even children who knew nothing, and even the unborn would all perish.
Without ever understanding why.
Imagine if you were at the park, watching a child eat ice cream, only for a bullet to pierce their head right in front of their parents.
That was a disturbing thought, and it was for similar reasons that Oliver had fought to stop the Burnt One in First Step.
True, First Step was a city built on sin, but that didn’t mean the entire city, along with everyone in it, deserved to burn to death without warning.
Not to mention, among those victims were also red-skinned people.
That was pure destruction. Though it might be thrilling, it wasn’t something productive that could make things better, only reckless and impulsive ruin.
It didn’t sit well with him personally.
And to bring about an apocalypse even greater than that, questioning why it mattered seemed overly disturbing.
“Hatred.”
Unyielding Knee explained further, as if he had read Oliver’s mind, despite Oliver having said nothing aloud.
“I... lost... everything. My tribe... our blood... was severed.”
The scene of the Burnt One’s summoning flashed through Oliver’s mind. The ritual site, where everyone had perished.
“With all that, what reason would I have... not to desire the apocalypse?”
Because he had lost everything, Unyielding Knee claimed he wanted to end it all.
It was a painfully simple reason, yet one that was difficult to refute because of the emotion behind it.
An emotion so vivid and intense that it even looked beautiful.
For Oliver, it was hard to deny the emotion itself, so he took another approach.
“...I understand your intentions, but why do you think I would accept your proposal?”
“Because... you... will.”
With absolute certainty, Unyielding Knee answered, and Oliver momentarily froze. “Because he would”?
“I didn’t... understand at first... either. But... now I get it.”
Persuade him? It seemed likely that Unyielding Knee wasn’t acting alone.
Reflectively, Oliver thought of Puppet.
After all, Puppet was the one who had taken the prince candidate Oliver fought with.
Oliver was intrigued. Why was Puppet so sure Oliver would accept such an absurd proposal? And why did Unyielding Knee share this certainty?
“Seeing you directly... I understand.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Oliver’s shadow stirred.
He ordered it to calm, restraining his emotions with immense caution. At that moment, Unyielding Knee declared...
“I will become a prince. A prince... from the apocalypse.”
“...”
“I will judge this world full of evil with my own hands. Before the world forgets, I will open the gates of Hell and end it all. Even if it means stealing authority and forcibly wearing it like a mantle!”
The corpse’s voice grew louder and louder, accompanied by a spattering of cold blood and flesh.
It was a gruesome sight. Yet, from this horrific display, Oliver felt a surge of intense shock and temptation, as though it struck directly at his brain.
“A prince... from the apocalypse. Only one shall hold that title, and I... will be that prince. If that’s the case—cough!!”
As the voice grew louder, the already strained vocal cords snapped, spilling even more blood and flesh onto the ground, and the former prince candidate’s neck was entirely destroyed, unusable any longer.
Fortunately, Oliver had heard enough to understand Unyielding Knee’s intentions.
He made no further gestures, no sign language, nor did he bring in a new corpse. He merely stared at Oliver.
Once again, a dense, weighty silence enveloped them.
The difference this time was that Oliver also felt the full weight of it.
For him, and only him, this was indeed an important proposal.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The silence grew so thick that it felt like hallucinations of ticking sounds filled the air, and after several dozens of ticks, Oliver finally spoke.
“There are conditions.”
Unyielding Knee responded in sign language.
[Speak them.]
...
“What’s going on?”
Captain Mero of Bin City’s City Guard.
He had volunteered to be the decoy and was holding off the cursed land’s monsters and White Swan Sect fanatics. As he watched the monsters and fanatics retreat, he spoke up.
Both enemies were notoriously dangerous, as evidenced by the significant damage they had inflicted.
Of the military vehicles they had brought, two had been completely destroyed, and eight subordinates were down, including the White Swan Sect guide assigned to lead them.
The guide’s body was mutilated with stakes, axes, and wooden posts, suggesting a brutal death, perhaps as punishment for betrayal.
However, Mero didn’t waste time dwelling on it.
He was focused on two pressing questions. First, why were the cursed land’s monsters attacking only them, while leaving the White Swan Sect fanatics untouched?
Initially, no one had pointed it out due to the chaos, but it was an oddity.
Typically, the cursed land’s creatures attacked both the residents of Bin City and White Swan Sect members indiscriminately, functioning as a kind of border guard.
But during the latest attack, the creatures had not attacked the fanatics. In fact, they had shown signs of cooperation, however clumsy.
This revelation held implications serious enough to affect Bin City’s very survival.
That wasn’t his only concern.
“We’re still getting no response. Something seems wrong.”
One of the guards, Jorge, reported the silence from the communicator.
They had set it to the same frequency as the device given to Dave, Landa’s problem-solver, but there was no answer.
Dave was supposed to report as soon as he arrived, either confirming the presence of a prince candidate seeking asylum or confirming there was none. Yet, there had been no word at all.
It didn’t seem like he’d encountered any significant trouble either.
After all, it was hard to imagine that a dark sorcerer with Dave’s reputation, who had thrown down Captain Hook in front of everyone, could be held up by anything.
Maybe he was simply distracted, though that too seemed unlikely.
Considering the high regard in which Landa held Dave’s reputation and Mayor Jack’s trust in his judgment, it wasn’t easy to believe he would neglect his duty.
Though Mero had no way of knowing, he wasn’t alone in these concerns.
His subordinates exchanged glances, silently asking him what they should do next.
Should they retreat, assuming something had gone wrong?
Or, should they take a risk and go check on him?
The decision didn’t take long.
They couldn’t return empty-handed. Not when the security of Bin City was at stake.
Remaining vigilant, Mero had the remaining personnel pile into the last intact vehicle and prepared for immediate response as they moved toward the nearby village.
Despite the rough battle, the engine managed to carry them safely to the village.
Leaving only a minimal crew to guard the vehicle, Mero and the rest of the team cautiously entered the village.
The place was devoid of life, a ghost town. But soon, they found Dave seated beside a corpse, lost in thought.
Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but his face seemed to carry a twisted smile, mingling cowardice with self-justification.
Just as Mero was about to ask what had happened, Dave raised his hand.
“The prince candidate seeking asylum passed away before I arrived. We were just a bit too late.”
Mero didn’t know how to react.
It was hard enough to accept that the mission had failed so anticlimactically, and the lack of any discernible emotion from Dave made it impossible to gauge the truth.
“But I did hear the White Swan Sect’s intentions.”
“?”
“They assured me they have no intention of harming Bin City. They promised.”
In that moment, Mero felt an unsettling sensation as if he had glimpsed a faint trace of emotion in Dave’s otherwise impassive expression.
His words were sincere. Twisted sincerity.