Chapter 640: The Airship (2)
Sharp eyes, sunken cheeks, tightly sealed lips, and rough skin.
The black magician, disguised as a crew member in uniform, gave off an undeniably strong impression, much like Walter Meyer, who had once sought Oliver's help.
He seemed to hail from the central continent.
A life shaped by struggle, growing rugged and coarse.
Typically, people like that didn’t easily show emotion on their faces, and the black magician before him was no different. However, even if his exterior seemed unflinching, he was secretly quite shaken.
From his perspective, it was understandable.
The blade that Oliver had caught bare-handed wasn’t just dangerous—it was a cursed item, carrying the power to rot flesh upon mere contact. A black magic artifact tempered in the blood of a plague-ridden individual. It was so vile that it could eat through a person's flesh while still alive, regardless of their skill. Most would not dare to use such a weapon.
Yet, Oliver held it with his bare hand.
Without a single issue.
Just as the black magician began questioning whether the person in front of him was even human, Oliver asked the intruder, “What brings you here?”
“...K-...Kyaaaahh!”
The man, quickly regaining his senses, responded with a hideous scream, as if reminded of his mission.
His cry, more beastly than human, reverberated through the entire airship, shaking the walls.
It wasn’t an attack but a signal.
Sensing this instinctively, Oliver blew a steady breath, shutting the man's mouth.
Using the weakening-type black magic Dumbness, the man was rendered mute in an instant.
“…?!”
Though the sudden turn of events should have left him stunned, he immediately moved on to his next action.
Letting go of the sword that was wedged tightly between Oliver’s index and middle fingers, he drew a new dagger.
From his quick judgment and movement, it was evident that he was a seasoned warrior. His skin, mottled with a deep, sickly red, and his nearly blurred speed indicated his significant prowess.
A skilled black magician with both experience and ability.
However, there was a peculiar detail.
For someone allegedly here to kill, his emotional state seemed... off.
-Slash!
Just as the man’s dagger nearly touched Oliver’s face, Derek drew out his longsword, which he had stored with shrink magic, and defended Oliver.
“What are you doing?!”
Seeing Oliver’s lack of response, Derek shouted in alarm. But Oliver, though apologetic, paid no mind to him. Instead, he activated Necromancer’s Sight, his gaze sweeping over the entire airship.
As Oliver activated his sight, the world around him turned black, allowing him to observe everyone aboard the airship and detect the signals echoing along the walls, as well as those who were reacting to it.
Numerous black magicians were scattered across the airship, some even busy planting bombs.
“…Hm?”
As he examined the airship’s interior, Oliver’s brow furrowed, a look of unease crossing his face.
A strange reaction, given his calm demeanor, even after nearly being stabbed.
Ignoring the others, Oliver focused his vision, confirming what he’d seen, and unfortunately, he hadn’t been mistaken.
“Why… is Rosburn…?”
Oliver murmured to himself, having spotted Rosburn in the airship’s economy class.
“What’s going on?!”
Derek shouted again, even as he traded blows with the black magician, creating silvery arcs in the air with his blade.
The narrow hallway of the airship made it difficult to wield a longsword or use magic, yet Derek was managing impressively well, suggesting he had undergone rigorous training.
While he hadn’t fully subdued the black magician, he managed to hold him off, giving the first-class passengers enough time to open their doors and assess the situation.
Among those passengers were Kevin and Yareli, traveling with a holy knight.
-Swoosh!-
Just as Kevin moved to help Derek, a tearing sound rang out.
Oliver, still clutching the sword between his fingers, strode forward, slicing through the black magician with swift, unhesitating slashes across his abdomen, chest, neck, face, and head from bottom to top.
Blood pooled on the floor, and the magician’s split flesh and bones revealed hollow, dead eyes, failing to comprehend what had just happened.
“…”
The black magician, still gripping two daggers and clashing ferociously with Derek, collapsed vertically without so much as a scream or a final sound.
The calm yet chilling scene left Derek wide-eyed, his blood running cold. Kevin, Yareli, the holy knight, and the nun who had been watching all stared silently at Oliver.
There was no other way to describe it; it was cold and mechanical.
Like he had simply disposed of a bothersome object.
And that was the truth.
Oliver had sliced through the black magician simply because he was an annoyance.
Under normal circumstances, Oliver wouldn’t have resorted to violence so quickly, but the situation changed the moment he spotted Rosburn in the economy section.
It was genuinely vexing.
As if reflecting his feelings, Oliver dropped the sword he’d used, letting it clatter beside the corpse. The black magician’s wounds began to fester.
The decayed flesh would risk spreading disease throughout the airship if left unchecked.
One of the holy knights quickly rushed over and purified the corpse.
With Holy Light.
The widely used yet potent holy spell.
While typically thought of as a combat tool, it could also be used to eliminate contaminants, as demonstrated by the knight.
Ordinarily, Oliver might have observed this with curiosity, but instead, he noticed Kevin’s startled expression as he stared at him.
“…What’s going on?”
Kevin asked in a more serious tone than usual, having never seen Oliver mercilessly cut down a person like this.
Oliver responded, “The black magicians are attacking the airship right now. And Rosburn is on board as well.”
“Ros… what?”
Derek, still struggling to understand the situation, muttered in confusion. But Kevin, who had heard about Rosburn from Merlin, understood immediately.
Rosburn. The child whom Oliver had once saved in Martel and had later been entrusted to a branch of the Magic Tower by Merlin.
Oliver had just said that this child was on the airship.
Why or how he got here remained a mystery.
But that wasn’t what mattered at the moment.
What mattered was that Rosburn’s presence alone was enough to unsettle Oliver.
As Kevin tried to piece together a response, Oliver turned and started towards the economy class, his steps firm and resolute.
Yareli called after him, nearly shouting, “Where are you going?!”
“To Rosburn.”
Oliver’s reply was matter-of-fact as if it were the only possible course of action in an airship under attack by black magicians.
It was less an answer and more a statement of intent.
An aura emanated from him that allowed no room for objection.
Yet, just as Kevin began to speak...
-Bang! Bang! Bang!-
Gunfire echoed from the lower levels of the airship.
...
The airship.
A grand invention heralded as proof of humanity’s conquest of the skies... Yet, despite such lofty praise, it remained a surprisingly fragile creation. Although it had achieved flight, allowing travel across nations and borders, experts often cautioned against claiming mastery over the skies.
The reason? Numerous vulnerabilities.
Weather, for instance, was one of the primary risks.
Under a storm’s assault, even the largest, most expensive airship became little more than a grand, airborne coffin. This was precisely why airlines invested in their own meteorological teams.
And yet, this vulnerability couldn’t be entirely eliminated.
Even with advances in magic and industry, no human could truly challenge the immense force of nature itself, crafted by divine hands.
And nature wasn’t the only threat.
Humans posed a problem as well.
Certain airship models could carry hundreds of passengers in one flight, yet at the same time, they remained highly susceptible to chaos. The unique conditions of flying high in the sky, coupled with limited space and sensitive engines and gas bladders, made them inherently dangerous in times of conflict.
A brawl aboard an airship could be fatal for all involved, which was why passengers were rigorously inspected with magic before boarding (Derek had been allowed to pass as he was traveling with the holy knight).
While some might have found the level of security excessive, most preferred it to the alternative of possible death, and thus, complaints were few.
But no matter how thorough the precautions, issues inevitably arose.
“S-stop!”
“Shut up! Resist, and I'll blow this whole thing up!”
Just like now.
Several men, likely black magicians, wielded guns, blades, or grotesquely transformed arms, terrorizing the passengers.
How they had passed the inspections was unknown, but in that moment, no one could afford to wonder.
The sight of black magicians attempting a terrorist attack mid-air rendered everyone speechless.
The airship’s security personnel and a few passengers with combat skills attempted to resist, but…
“There are bombs all over this airship! Try anything, and I’ll blow it up!”
One of the black magicians, a man who looked unhinged with nothing left to lose, raised a detonator high above his head and shouted.
It was uncertain if he was bluffing, but his threat alone was enough to make any resistance stop. Taking advantage of that hesitation, the black magicians quickly subdued those who had attempted to fight back.
The bodies of several people lying in pools of blood were proof of their ruthlessness.
Most passengers surrendered, cowering and praying for the ordeal to pass.
“Engine room secured! Gas bladders under control!”
“What about first class?”
“Well, that’s….”
“Damn it…”
One of the black magicians muttered in frustration.
Given the lack of response, it seemed that things weren’t going according to plan, but rather than panic, he appeared unsurprised, as if he had anticipated this setback.
His reaction was unusual for someone attempting to hijack an airship.
And that wasn’t the only strange thing.
Though they were filled with anger, none of them showed the typical deranged bloodlust associated with such fanatics. Rather, a sense of anxious desperation clung to them.
Of course, none of the frightened passengers noticed this.
During the silence, one of the black magicians whispered anxiously to the man holding the detonator, his voice tinged with fear rather than anger.
“What are we supposed to do now?”
“What else? This is as far as the plan went, now…”
The man with the detonator trailed off, looking down at his left hand.
The hand holding the detonator.
Oddly enough, his palm, slick with sweat from gripping the device, was now covered in a thin layer of frost. It spread over his hand like white mold, chilling his fingers to the bone, immobilizing them in ice.
In an instant.
“W-what…?”
Caught in a daze, the man struggled to process what was happening.
It wasn’t until his frozen hand fully registered that the black magicians noticed Yareli standing at the entryway, watching them with her glasses off.
The black magicians immediately prepared to retaliate, but Yareli’s gaze was faster. In a single breath, she froze them where they stood.
-Crack! Crack!-
The sound of ice crept through their noses, mouths, necks, and limbs as it overtook their bodies, leaving them encased in white frost.
Taking advantage of the moment, Derek charged in, wielding his longsword like a blunt weapon, and knocked one of them out.
It would be unwise to spill blood in front of passengers, not to mention the need to capture one alive for interrogation.
“All secured?”
“Yes. Based on Zenon’s information, this should be all of them. The holy knights should be handling the engine room.”
Roderick’s party and Zenon’s team had divided the tasks, following the information provided by Oliver’s Necromancer’s Sight to eliminate the black magicians attempting to hijack the airship.
There had been some unexpected challenges due to Zenon’s unusual behavior, but with Kevin’s guidance and the support of Derek and Yareli, they had managed to cover all their positions.
Now, Derek was about to fulfill his end of the promise.
“Rosburn!”
The young magician who had just dealt with the black magicians suddenly called out for someone.
The passengers, who had been on the verge of thanking their rescuers, were taken aback as a familiar young face appeared from among them.
A boy they recognized.
It was the same boy who had sat by Zenon’s side, even while he lay unconscious.
The same boy who had returned Zenon’s quarterstaff after he awoke.
Seeing the boy, Derek spoke up.
“Rosburn?”
“Yes?”
“You’ll explain why you’re here, won’t you?”
There was no need to mention who had asked.
Just as Rosburn was about to speak…
-Boom! Boom!-
Explosions rocked the rear and upper parts of the airship, violently shaking it.
The bombs planted by the black magicians had detonated, likely in the engine room and the gas bladder—both critical to the airship’s operation. In other words, this was a dire situation.
The passengers, still seated, screamed and panicked as the airship began to plummet before anyone could calm them.
Just when it seemed that all hope was lost, the sensation of falling slowed abruptly. Suddenly, an immense surge of magic enveloped the airship, bracing its descent, as though a powerful force were holding it aloft.