Chapter 611: Contaminated Zone (4)
Rumble, rumble...
The underground of the Contaminated Zone. The floor trembled. It was a barely perceptible vibration, one an ordinary person wouldn't even notice, but Salas Rigas, a disciple of the Traditional Gaia School, could sense the earth moving beneath him.
Of course, it was natural for him. Salas had spent his entire life studying Mother Earth, building his achievements upon her foundations.
He had grown old, his once-black hair now stark white, and his once-firm, bronze skin sagged from age. Given the long years he had spent, it only made sense that he would perceive what ordinary people could not.
The era of industry had started and reached its peak, and Salas had endured that long and arduous period. And it was worth it.
It was more than a mere desire to attain power as a mage; he bore a noble purpose to understand Mother Earth and comprehend the world’s truths, enduring the long, cold, tedious years with quiet resolve.
Proudly, he had continued his path, undeterred by the opinions of those who believed that the Traditional School was in decline.
“And when that pride was shattered... how agonizingly hollow it was.”
Salas looked at his hand, which had regained some of its former strength, and felt a complex mixture of joy and emptiness.
“Chief!”
A few seconds later, a mage wearing a pink suit approached him and reported.
“We have an intruder! It's Woodcutter Dave.”
Woodcutter Dave. That was the nickname and name he had heard before arriving in Landa.
The Pinkman Intelligence Division had said that Dave, a fixer in Landa, earned the moniker after killing eighty-two druids affiliated with the Enjoyment faction.
It was truly impressive.
Druids, beings who commanded formidable bodies and wielded powerful techniques, were few in number due to their secluded nature, but they were superhumans who were in no way inferior to mages.
And yet, it was said that he had slain eighty-two such druids. Due to his age, background, and position, Salas refrained from showing it outwardly, but he was deeply impressed.
Dave Light. He was supposedly in his mid-twenties, yet Salas was curious how someone so young could achieve such feats.
There were rumors that he might be an experiment or a disciple of the Archive... though on second thought, he seemed unlikely to be an experiment.
After all, this was Merlin's disciple they were speaking of, so such accomplishments might just be possible, though thinking it over, it didn’t quite add up.
Merlin, once known for his unruly nature, had completely transformed since becoming part of the Archive.
This piqued Salas's curiosity again. What exactly was it about becoming part of the Archive that could change a person so drastically?
Well, it wasn’t as if he would ever find out.
“Chief! He's still coming down. Should we give the order...?”
“How is the mining progress?”
“Currently, we’ve excavated forty percent.”
“Forty percent... Is the Woodcutter coming alone?”
“Yes, he left his subordinates at one of the refugee settlements. For reasons unknown, it seems he’s protecting the refugees there.”
“Hm, that’s strange for a black magician. Or could it be due to the recent rumors? That he’s backed by the Pater Church? Are we holding him off?”
“Yes, we’re trying desperately to block his way. However, he’s ignoring everything and descending rapidly towards this underground area.”
Salas nodded. Considering the nature of this underground, it was no surprise.
The underground of the Contaminated Zone was riddled with secret passage formations woven together like a spider’s web, so a skilled mage with serious intent could navigate it freely.
“For now, withdraw with your colleagues.”
“Pardon?”
“For now, we must not reveal our identities. We certainly can’t afford to be seen in these ridiculous pink suits. Well, we could claim we were impersonating Pinkman, but still…”
Salas pulled up the earth and dust from the ground, wrapping it around his entire body and compressing it. Instantly, a stone-gray suit appeared around him.
It radiated an imposing presence, as though he was clad in a fortress.
This required control at an elemental level, a feat achievable only through exceptional mastery of magic. Although Salas held only the title of an Archmage, he had once been a candidate for Grandmaster of the Traditional School, and his skills spoke to that reputation.
The mage in the pink suit asked him, “And you, Chief?”
“Well, someone needs to show that we’re taking action. Besides, on a personal note, I’m interested in meeting this young man, Dave. It would have been better if we hadn’t encountered each other, but now that we have, I’ll make use of the opportunity.”
With those words, Salas channeled his power, causing the dust and earth beneath him to ripple slightly.
At first glance, it seemed insignificant.
However, the mage in the pink suit soon felt the ominous energy, and, as if in confirmation, the ground before Salas began to ripple again as something rose to the surface.
It had a green glow at the head, a gray body, and brown limbs.
It was also translucent, though that did not make its presence faint. Quite the contrary, its presence was even sharper than that of most mages.
At last, the mage in the pink suit realized what it was.
It was none other than a spirit. Its neck and limbs were bound by chains of pure magic.
As the rumors said, the spirit was bound through magic.
Salas commanded the spirit bound by his magic, and in response, it emitted a piercing scream, causing the earth to shake.
Salas, the proud Traditional Gaia mage who studied magic with a reverent heart, now held dominion over Mother Earth.
...
“This is E-14! The Woodcutter is here—”
Upon descending to a lower level of the Contaminated Zone’s underground, one member of the Shield Brotherhood reported into his communicator.
It seemed they had set up coordinates of their own accord below the Contaminated Zone.
No matter how militarized they’d become, at their core, they were still a gang, yet their operations were astonishingly meticulous, displaying the precision of experts.
“In other words, the majority of their forces may indeed be unaligned gangsters from the Shield Brotherhood, but someone else is commanding them,” deduced Oliver, who had lived as a fixer in Landa for several years.
Clank.
“Fire!”
As soon as Oliver continued his descent, ignoring the Shield Brotherhood, he heard a shout.
The gang members waiting below were all pointing their guns at Oliver in ambush.
It seemed the gang members above had continued to relay Oliver's location, explaining why they hadn’t lost track of him.
In this way, Oliver could infer two additional facts.
One was that there was a mage of considerable skill on the other side. A mage of such high theoretical and practical level that they could track and organize the secret passage formations set up below the Contaminated Zone.
The other was that the person’s command authority was absolute, though whether this was through sheer power or reward was uncertain.
Not that it mattered. He had more immediate concerns.
Such as the dozens of guns now aimed at him.
In unison, the gang members pulled their triggers, their weapons firing at Oliver with bursts of flame and deafening gunfire.
Drrrrrrrrrrr...!!!
Bullets reinforced with blue mana streaked toward Oliver, and he pulled on his stored mana, crafting stone walls around him as fortifications.
The impact of the bullets splintered and smashed into the stone, and soon—
Boom━!!
—an explosion shook the walls, sending fist-sized chunks of stone flying outward, striking the gang members surrounding Oliver.
Most of them, caught off guard, suffered severe injuries, some with fractured skulls, others with ruptured abdomens and chests.
Oliver had created his stone wall with a hollow center between two layers, one a sturdy inner wall and the other a less durable outer wall filled with sensitized mana.
It was almost like a barrel full of oil, and the Shield Brotherhood had effectively shot straight at it.
Naturally, the result was as disastrous as if they had fired at an oil drum.
Explosion, shockwave, shrapnel, flames.
Protected by the sturdy inner wall, Oliver emerged unscathed, and he ignored the incapacitated gang members as he prepared to descend further.
With most of them now rendered unable to fight, it was far more critical to subdue the key personnel.
With that in mind, Oliver channeled large amounts of mana into the ground to activate a formation that opened multiple layers of floors simultaneously.
To descend directly below.
Shuuuu... Shuuu...
The brick floors of the underground Contaminated Zone opened up layer by layer, and seeing this, Oliver immediately jumped down.
Though his ribs throbbed with pain, and his right arm burned, his priority was the mission.
He was also personally curious about who was excavating the demon research materials and transaction records in the depths of the Contaminated Zone.
“To go down without interference, this is the best option. If I give chase and they try to escape... hmm?”
While dropping through each successive layer, Oliver noticed something.
It was a spirit. And it was bound by magic.
At first, he thought he might be mistaken, but focusing his Black Magician’s Sight confirmed it was indeed a spirit.
He wondered if there was a mage who could handle spirits. It wasn’t impossible.
Though fewer than druids, some mages could commune with spirits; Merlin’s disciple, Kevin Dunbar, was one prominent example.
However, this was different. While there was a spirit, its emotions were dominated by frustration and anger, and, more critically, it was bound by a powerful spell.
The scene reminded Oliver of Eve when she was captured by Seamus...
At that moment, the earth trembled.
The secret formations of the Contaminated Zone’s underground tunnels, which Oliver had been manipulating, began to break apart as the ground shifted, accompanied by a massive roar as the underground terrain transformed.
As Oliver continued downward, a massive pillar of stone surged up, slamming into him like an upward fist, sending him rocketing back up.
And that wasn’t the only change.
Shuuu! Shuuu!
The underground shifted violently, the floor and walls rupturing, as the maze-like passages rearranged, gathering the scattered Shield Brotherhood members into one place.
Oliver now found himself isolated like an ant inside a jar.
An ant suspended in midair, at that.
This situation arose because a spirit had taken control of the very earth itself.
The gang members surrounding Oliver took aim and prepared to fire, but in that split second, Oliver gathered a tremendous amount of mana into his quarterstaff and struck the ground.
Clank!
A soft, clear sound resonated through the underground, and the dense mana gathered in his quarterstaff flowed downward into the stone pillar supporting him.
Rumble, rumble...
A menacing sound echoed as the entire underground shook, with cracks spreading across the floor, and soil crumbled from the ceiling.
Oliver had deliberately overloaded the ground with mana, straining the spirit.
Deciding it would be challenging to wrest control from an elemental spirit, this move forced it into a state of breathlessness, as though it had something lodged in its throat.
As the spirit struggled, the underground, which it was controlling, began to collapse, throwing the Shield Brotherhood into confusion.
The gang members missed their golden opportunity to concentrate their firepower on Oliver. Although their panic was understandable, given that they were at risk of being buried alive, it was still an opportunity lost, and Oliver didn't let their mistake go unpunished. From within his coat, he launched a shrunken corpse puppet—Durance—into the air and released the shrinking spell.
As Durance resumed its full size in midair, Oliver activated his Child-Second, sending it directly into Durance’s core.
Revitalized, Durance instantly deployed its weapons: guns protruded from both arms, one leg, its side, and shoulders, totaling eight in all, from which bullets erupted in every direction.
These included standard mana-powered bullets as well as specialized flesh-infused rounds.
Oliver, previously surrounded and at a disadvantage, now seized control of the situation, counterattacking from the center of the unprotected enemy forces.
Such was the hidden strength of mages and black magicians alike.
With a single maneuver, the tide of the battle could be reversed.
Of course, this also meant that the enemy could just as easily turn the tables, and indeed, they did.
Directly beneath Durance, who was now hovering high and unleashing firepower akin to a barrage, a massive floor—what appeared to Oliver as the ceiling—suddenly materialized.
The spirit, having recovered from the strain, had reasserted its control. Durance tried to blast through this newly formed barrier to reach Oliver, but the floor, manipulated directly by the spirit, withstood the assault.
It was an impressive display of mastery.
Thus, the hastily summoned ceiling separated Oliver and Durance, and then, from above, came the sound of squeaking rats.
These were likely the hairless rats—contaminated creatures that inhabited the contaminated zone’s underground.
Hairless rats and corpse puppets. Rats and corpses.
The two were natural enemies, and just as Oliver attempted to break through the ceiling to assist Durance, the stone pillar supporting him crumbled to dust, pulling Oliver back underground.
Thud!!
Landing steadily, Oliver briefly winced at the slight impact felt in his ribs and right arm.
An elderly mage, clad in stone armor and a mask, observed him with a hint of admiration.
“It seems you're having some trouble with your body,” he said, almost in awe. “And... younger than I expected.”