Chapter 633: Surrender (Part 2)
The man pleading for his life from Oliver was named Walter, a black magician who had crossed over from the Central Continent.
“The Central Continent?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
The man, kneeling with his head lowered, responded humbly. His posture and voice held a natural air, much like that of a servant before a master or a vassal before a king.
Oliver did not like it.
“There are many things I’d like to ask, but first, could you stand up? I don’t care for people kneeling before me.”
“My apologies. Where I come from, it is customary to show respect in this way. I meant no offense.”
The man rose to his feet, apologizing calmly. While he seemed composed, closer inspection revealed otherwise; though outwardly steady, he was filled with tension and anxiety, as if he’d been caught hiding something.
Yet, his forced composure stemmed from an even greater fear: the dread of displeasing Oliver by showing weakness, trembling, or stuttering.
Driven by survival instincts, fear conquered his fear.
Though not an expert in such matters, Oliver could tell one thing: this was no mere survival tactic developed overnight. It was the kind one acquired in a life marked by harsh experiences.
“If it’s the Central Continent, that might make sense…”
Oliver thought of the Central Continent. He had no personal connection to the region, but he’d heard stories.
A land untouched by the blessings of industrialization.
A chaotic territory splintered into countless small states.
Because of this, public order was weak, and with many magicians having left, black magicians held considerable power there.
Normally, black magicians tended to concentrate in large cities, so it was an unusual structure that piqued Oliver’s curiosity. What circumstances led a black magician from the Central Continent to seek him out across the sea—and in such a state of terror?
Wanting to resolve this curiosity, Oliver spoke up.
“Mr. Walter. Could you raise your head and remove your hood?”
Once again, Walter complied without protest, allowing Oliver to see his face. Compared to his mannerisms and speech, Walter looked rather young—somewhere in his mid-to-late twenties.
After observing him, Oliver politely introduced himself.
“Thank you for obliging. My name is Dave, a fixer from 30th Street, District T in Landa.”
“I’m Walter Meyer, a black magician of the Meyer Family.”
“Your last name is the same as the family name.”
“Our family consists of blood relatives.”
“Ah…”
Oliver let out a small sound of realization. He had seen this type before when assisting the Holy Knight in dealing with black magicians from the Central Continent who had crossed over to Gallos—a family composed of bloodlines, organized on a village level.
Such an arrangement was rare in Landa and Gallos, making it memorable.
“It is a great honor to meet a new ‘Finger’ on behalf of our family.”
“I’m not a Finger, and besides, I’m not even part of Black Hand.”
“Oh… I apologize.”
“No need to apologize. I didn’t mention it for that reason. I’m just curious why you referred to me as a Finger.”
Oliver already had an idea, but there was something he wanted to confirm.
“As I’ve heard, you fought evenly against Puppet, assisted in defeating the Eternal Child Pan and his sea monster… but most notably—”
Here came the main point.
“—you fought the Piper and survived. At the very least, that’s what we believe on our side.”
Just as he expected.
Though Oliver had been keeping a low profile to recover, he could still sense the ripple effect that came after he drove the Piper away and was hailed as a hero of Landa.
To suppress the growing awareness of his presence, Oliver had to erase even his own aura. Wherever people saw him, their reactions were markedly different from before.
The value of driving away the Piper carried considerable weight. At that moment, Oliver detected a subtle strangeness.
“Did you say I ‘survived’?”
Fixer Dave had been officially announced as having driven out the Piper. When Oliver explained this, Walter replied.
“I apologize if this sounds rude, but no one believes that story. At least, not on the Central Continent.”
“Oh… Why is that?”
“Because… imagining anyone capable of stopping the Piper is impossible.”
Involuntarily, Oliver nodded. Indeed, the Piper was an immensely powerful being, a different caliber compared to other Fingers.
But more frightening than his power was his boundless rage, vast as the sea.
To Oliver, the Piper’s fury was more terrifying than his strength.
“I hope you’re not offended. In our part of the world, the Piper’s domain overlaps with ours, and we feel his dread constantly, unlike here.”
Oliver felt inclined to ask what he had been through but swallowed the question. While he was curious, it didn’t burn as it once might have. Moreover, he had an arrangement with the Piper himself.
“To keep his distance, in exchange for not interfering in his affairs.”
The overwhelming gap in power, the situation, and Oliver’s own desires aligned, so he had accepted this condition. Yet, a lingering question remained.
Why had the Piper offered Oliver such favorable terms?
Despite lacking motivation, the Piper appeared to value his promises. So why…
However, Oliver soon ceased his thoughts. It was an answer he couldn’t reach, nor did he particularly want to know.
He simply wanted to distance himself from the Piper, both in reality and in thought.
Redirecting his attention to the matter at hand, Oliver focused on the conversation he’d had with Walter and drew a conclusion.
“So, you didn’t come here because of the Piper.”
“That’s correct.”
“Then, what’s the reason?”
“To ask for protection from the Holy Knights.”
...
Walter, the black magician from the Central Continent, claimed that he had sought out Fixer Dave across the sea due to the Holy Knights. He explained that the Holy Knights had suddenly surged into the Central Continent, indiscriminately hunting and slaughtering black magicians.
Frankly, Oliver didn’t find it surprising. One of the primary roles of a Holy Knight was to hunt black magicians. It seemed only natural.
“But,” he said, “you mentioned it’s different from usual… Do you have an idea?”
In a basement room in District X, Oliver was instructing Marie on a technique. He was teaching her how to use “Ptah’s Assistant,” a technique combining Pure Mana and Life Magic. Delicate and challenging, it was not easy to use, let alone activate. However, Oliver placed his hand on Marie’s back, guiding the mana flow directly to teach her the method.
Marie assembled her extracted mana with precision, forming a mechanical hand as thin as a needle and as sharp as a scalpel.
“Well done.”
“Thank you. It’s all thanks to your guidance, Mr. Dave.”
“Then, shall we proceed with the operation?”
Oliver gestured toward the operating table in the center of the basement, where a human-shaped wooden model lay.
The model, crafted from wood, appeared to grow naturally in the shape of a woman. Each joint was separated, with nerve bundles resembling roots partially connected between them.
The reason for the incomplete connection was because Oliver had paused his work on it, intending for Marie to practice.
“Did you see how I did it earlier? Give it a try.”
“Are you sure it’s alright for me to handle it? You’ve worked so hard on this piece.”
“It’s fine. Even if there’s a mistake, I can fix it. Just give it a try.”
At Oliver’s insistence, Marie took a deep breath to steady herself and controlled her mana hand, connecting the nerve bundles one by one.
Each nerve bundle required precise pairing; a single misstep would require starting over, but Marie’s handling was only slightly awkward. She had clearly paid close attention to Oliver’s demonstration.
Her confidence grew as Oliver’s continued encouragement allowed her to steadily connect each root.
“Good. Keep going.”
Emboldened, Marie shed her last bit of hesitation and continued the process, completing the work satisfactorily.
While he had given her pointers, she demonstrated a remarkable aptitude for it, exceeding Oliver’s expectations.
“May I ask what’s different?”
Marie’s sudden question broke the silence mid-task.
“Excuse me?”
“You mentioned the black magician from the Central Continent said something was different. Could you explain?”
Usually, he didn’t allow for idle talk during lessons, but instead of scolding her, Oliver answered.
Oliver had brought up the topic, and Marie hadn’t asked out of mere curiosity.
“Hmm… They say the Central Continent was previously of little concern to the Holy Knights, but for some reason, the Pater Church’s Holy Palace has dispatched a large number of knights. They’re not only targeting black magicians causing trouble but even hunting down those who are quietly keeping to themselves. It’s nearly a massacre.”
Oliver refrained from explaining the reason for this. To delve into it all would be long, complex, and frankly, dismal.
“Can’t they just come to our branch in Gallos?”
The Chosen Ones, based in Gallos, comprised black magicians who had secured a conditional survival arrangement under the supervision of the Pater Church. This arrangement had emerged from a negotiation between Oliver and the Deputy Priest Armand, who had extended the offer of cooperation in exchange for order and safety among the black magicians. Those who refused faced consequences.
Thanks to this, after the downfall of the Flesh Chef, the number of rogue black magicians had drastically decreased, and some were now part of the Chosen Ones' management team and working under Marie’s supervision alongside members of Child-Force.
“They say the Holy Knights have blocked the routes,” Oliver said. “Their stated reason is to prevent disorder caused by an influx of refugees, but according to Walter, their true purpose is simply to kill black magicians.”
“Then, his request for help was…?”
“To ask me to directly intervene and mediate with the Holy Knights.”
“What did you tell him, if I may ask?”
“… I refused.”
It was a predictable yet surprising response.
“The only reason I can cooperate with the Holy Knights is because of Gallos. Besides, the Pater Church’s stance as a whole hasn’t been fully clarified.”
Oliver took a moment to re-evaluate his relationship with the Pater Church. While he was under their support, that support was regional and limited.
The one providing this support was solely Deputy Priest Armand, and despite Armand’s considerable influence, the help he could offer was limited in scope. Without his backing, the establishment of a Black Magic discipline at the Mage Tower would have been impossible.
However, that didn’t mean Oliver could freely intervene wherever he chose. Even in Gallos, Oliver had simply followed Armand’s lead and executed his role within the framework Armand had set.
His influence was confined to his “front yard” of Landa and Armand’s territory in Gallos, so he had declined Walter’s request for intervention.
“Besides, I have things to take care of here… Do you think I’m being too harsh?”
“I don’t think it’s a matter of right or wrong,” Marie said, offering her support. “It’s a decision only you can make, Mr. Dave, and I’ll stand by whatever choice you make.”
Her comforting words genuinely lifted Oliver’s spirits.
“Did Walter, the black magician, have anything further to say?”
“Actually, he accepted my refusal more calmly than expected and simply withdrew.”
Indeed, that was true. Although Walter had shown some intense regret and sorrow inwardly, he had not pressed Oliver further after receiving his answer.
It must have been the manner of survival learned in the Central Continent, which made the whole matter linger on Oliver’s mind even more.
“Are you alright?” Marie asked.
“Yes, I’m fine. It’s already in the past. Let’s focus on the task at hand. Have you completed the work?”
Marie nodded, indicating that all the root-like nerve bundles within the wooden human model had been successfully connected. It was a job well done.
After carefully checking each connection, Oliver reattached the joints, completing the model, which he then slung over his shoulder.
“Let’s get going.”
“Where to?”
“The Mage Tower. This is for use there.”
“Oh… Are you going like that?” Marie asked, glancing at the wooden human model over Oliver’s shoulder.
She wasn’t wrong to ask; as mentioned earlier, the model was based on a woman’s form and, thanks to Oliver’s artistic touch, had turned out exceptionally well. Exceptionally well.
Incidentally, the model was, of course, unclothed.
“Yes.”
“…Yes,” Marie said, acquiescing as she quietly followed Oliver, her words failing her under his mysterious resolve.
Shortly after, the Mage Tower found itself swept into two waves of astonishment.
The first was due to Landa’s hero showing up with a human model shaped like a woman on his shoulder.
“What the… what is this?”
The second shock came when a Deputy Priest from the Pater Church arrived at the Mage Tower…
…with a request for assistance in purging the evil black magicians flooding in from the Central Continent.