Chapter 660: Dawn (3)
In the economic city of Bruce in the Kingdom of Aizan...
This city, built through large-scale loans from the Pater Church, now housed double-digit numbers of kings, princes, and royalty, along with the armies they commanded stationed within its limits. It was inevitable that only Bruce had the capacity to accommodate such numbers and forces.
All of this was made possible by the miraculous, large-scale investment of the Pater Church.
However, this miracle, impressive as it was, could not compare to the economic cities within the United Kingdom and Gallos. Even Bruce, the pride of the Kingdom of Aizan, could at best be considered a mere provincial town next to the grand cities of the United Kingdom and Gallos. This disparity reflected the times—a tragedy born of dwindling faith and the age of gold worship. Yet, it also affirmed that “the city of Bruce in the Kingdom of Aizan,” though small, was still a city in its own right.
Factories operated, tens of thousands of people resided, and armies stationed themselves in this one city.
Yet, a massive shadow loomed over this city.
As the morning sunlight swept away the darkness, a new shadow descended upon the city.
Drdrdrdrdrdrdrdr...
Then, an immense gust blew from the sky, shaking the city buildings—a most unusual phenomenon. Under the nighttime curfew, citizens trapped in their homes one by one began to peek out their windows, attempting to understand the situation.
Normally, such behavior would also be illegal, and the military overseeing the city would be expected to enforce order. However, none of the soldiers took action.
“W-what is that…?”
Even the soldiers, entranced, gazed up at the sky.
For above the city drifted an enormous beast...
...
As the beast appeared, people and livestock alike fell silent, and an eerie stillness blanketed the city. The only sounds that could be heard were intermittent breaths, the occasional sound of gulping, and eyes rolling, all directed toward the gigantic creature roaming the sky.
With a long, slender neck and legs, wings, and a body as enormous as a mountain yet agile as a wolf, covered in dark crimson scales...
Those who had once encountered the Pied Piper now felt an entirely new terror rise within them. Even the soldiers, nominally gathered to protect the city, felt their eyes tremble, slowly lowering their weapons. Overwhelmed by the sheer presence before them, their resolve had crumbled.
And those of noble lineage were no exception.
“A… a dragon?”
Inside Bruce City Hall...
One of the kings, peering out a window, made a dazed remark upon seeing the creature’s presence. This behavior was a stark contrast to the imposing way he had, until moments ago, demanded the elimination of the black magician. However, he was not alone; the others were in no different a state.
“What… What is going on?! Dragons… weren’t they supposed to be extinct?”
“Did someone summon it?”
“Summon a dragon? Do you think summoning magic is that simple…?”
“This isn’t an illusion, right?”
“If it were an illusion, the city wouldn’t be shaking like this, would it?”
-Kreeeeeeeeeee!!
As they struggled to believe what they saw, with some even suggesting it was an illusion, the beast in the sky let out another haunting cry. The sound seemed to resonate throughout the city, causing the wooden windows and stone walls of the buildings to shake violently, and setting horses, dogs, and other livestock into fits of frenzied terror.
At the brink of the city’s collapse, the beast suddenly dove down toward the city’s outskirts.
“What should we do?! Archpriest!”
The kings, who had come with armies yet had left their resolve behind, grabbed the Archpriest Roderick’s collar in desperation, their expressions uniformly urgent. In contrast to their panic, however, Roderick maintained a faint smile.
“This is good news.”
“What?!”
“Good news? Are you out of your mind?”
“What is it?”
The bewildered kings and royals listened as Roderick explained calmly.
“The one we’ve been waiting for has returned. Let us go and greet him.”
As he spoke, the ground shook, and a cloud of dust rose on the city’s outskirts.
The dragon had landed just outside the city.
...
Kuhuhuhuhuhung…!
When the transformed Corpse Puppet—now a Flesh Chef—landed, the ground trembled with a deep vibration that seemed to reverberate from its very innards. Dust billowed thickly in all directions. While this posed no problem for Oliver, whose black magician’s eyes were sharper than ordinary vision, the Flesh Chef in dragon form cleared the dust by flapping its massive wings.
The immense wings managed to dispel the dust almost instantly, revealing a group approaching through the gap.
The approaching party consisted of the towering Archpriest Roderick, several men dressed in ornate attire, and the knights and soldiers guarding them.
“N-no way…”
One of the group murmured in shock upon spotting Oliver. The others showed similar reactions—pale faces, blank and shaking eyes, lowered eyebrows, cold sweat, and subtly trembling hands and feet. This reaction was likely because Oliver stood atop the head of the Corpse Puppet Flesh Chef.
The dragon, casting a shadow over the city, had Oliver standing atop its head.
That had been the intent from the start.
“Fourth.”
Oliver called out to the entity within the Corpse Puppet Flesh Chef, the Child Fourth.
Grrrrrrrrrr...
Fourth responded through the mouth of the Flesh Chef.
The people around them were even more horrified.
Though they had guessed Oliver was controlling the dragon, seeing it with their own eyes was an entirely different experience.
Without being fazed, Oliver continued what he was doing.
“Would you mind helping me down?”
He requested, and Child Fourth responded with a low hum, lowering its elongated neck toward the ground.
This inadvertently allowed many people to get a close look at the dragon’s face.
The creature, now only visible in books and legends...
The dragon that the Flesh Chef had transformed into was large enough to rival an ancient dragon, though it lacked the short horns and sagging jowls, making it appear young and powerful. Its flaming red eyes and massive maw alone were enough to make knees weak.
And here was a black magician who, like an elevator, used the dragon’s head to descend to the ground.
Tap.
Instinctively, all eyes turned to the black magician.
He was a striking figure—though thin and frail, dressed sharply, with one hand wrapped in bandages and holding a quarterstaff in the other. The most distinctive feature was his hair, half of which was bleached white, though he did not come off as immediately threatening.
And yet, perhaps due to the dragon he had arrived on or the strange atmosphere he projected, no one dared to speak.
Not even the Archpriest or the kings were immune to this silence. No matter how high they stood, they were, after all, only human.
Then, someone broke the uncomfortable silence.
“Your Highness…”
It was Oliver. Having arrived atop the dragon, he bowed respectfully to Archpriest Roderick at the front.
A formal greeting, fully observing social customs. Thanks to this, some who had momentarily forgotten to breathe finally exhaled again.
“Please accept my apologies for departing without permission.”
Oliver apologized for his abrupt departure, to which Roderick responded.
“…It’s all right. I heard you had urgent matters to attend to and sought our understanding.”
Strictly speaking, it had been more of a threat than a request for understanding, but neither Roderick nor anyone else questioned it.
For a man who had subdued multiple Holy Knights on his own and then returned atop a dragon, permission granted meant exactly that.
Instead, Roderick asked a question.
“Were you able to take care of things? You mentioned you had some matters to investigate?”
“Oh…”
Oliver made a brief sound of acknowledgment as he scanned the people around him.
The royals in ornate attire, military men, and Holy Knights standing one step behind Roderick…
His gaze seemed to unsettle them, and they flinched involuntarily.
For a gathering in the Central Continent, a region often viewed as a second-rate part of the Chosen Kingdoms, it was an unusual sight.
Kings, cowering under the gaze of a black magician?
It would be understandable if the black magician was one who opposed society entirely, like Puppet, the Flesh Chef, Pan, or the Pied Piper, but for a black magician who conformed to order, this reaction was surprising.
Regardless of his power, those who aligned with the order were bound to show respect to the kings who benefitted from the support of the Pater Church.
That was the established order.
And under that order, the kings maintained their dignity, supported by the Pater Church.
Yet the kings found themselves feeling an inexplicable fear before this black magician. And this fear forced them to speak.
“Yes, Archpriest Roderick. I have finished my investigations… Greetings, Your Highnesses.”
Oliver responded to Roderick, then greeted the men around him.
Indicating that he was aware they were kings, Roderick naturally brought attention to this fact.
“Oh… You recognize the kings?”
It sounded like an odd question, yet it wasn’t entirely out of place.
In countries where kings were frequently seen in the media, like the United Kingdom or Gallos, this might be unremarkable. However, in most smaller kingdoms of the Central Continent, it was unusual for kings to be recognized on sight.
Unless one had a specific interest in political affairs, identifying the kings of the Central Continent was not easy.
And Oliver was among those who typically paid little attention to such matters—not out of laziness or a lack of preparedness, but rather because it was similar to having no particular interest in random passersby.
Yet, here he was, recognizing the kings.
"By their attire," he replied, gesturing to the uniforms worn by the kings, princes, and other royal dignitaries who had gathered with the army.
For the observant, this would indeed be enough to identify them, yet something still felt off.
However, no one dared to press him on this point, as Oliver's next statement was even more surprising.
"I've heard that everyone has gathered to defeat the Pied Piper."
Despite no one having informed him of the purpose of this assembly, Oliver had somehow already discerned it.
Some had aimed to keep this information confidential—albeit imperfectly—thanks to the pride of certain members, yet here he was, fully aware.
How?
Oliver simply answered, “I just overheard it.”
An ambiguous and suspicious response, to say the least.
To several of the Holy Knights, Oliver’s answer and his very presence evoked memories of the Pied Piper. That same intense, unsettling feeling they couldn’t quite put into words...
“Archpriest Roderick... may I inquire as to the fate of the surrendered black magicians?”
"They remain where they were confined. Moving them prematurely would only add to the confusion. They are disarmed and are under strict watch by both soldiers and Holy Knights."
"Thank you, Your Highness."
Oliver expressed his gratitude to Roderick once more. Though a bit stiff and overly formal, his polite demeanor helped ease some of the fear and tension among the crowd. Quite considerably, in fact.
“What will you do with these black magicians?” Roderick asked.
"As previously discussed with Your Highness, I will conduct investigations with the Holy Knights to identify those guilty of heinous crimes, who will be handed over to the Pater Church. The remaining individuals will be managed on our end."
“Hold on a moment,” interjected a third voice, laden with pride.
It was King Veller of the Kingdom of Aizan, who had advocated for a purge of black magicians to assert his royal authority.
He had stayed silent after the arrival of Oliver on a dragon, initially frightened, but now, seeing that Oliver was willing to engage in conversation with Roderick, he boldly stepped in.
‘Lumberjack Dave. Though he is reputed to be one of the new ‘fingers’ and has a notorious past, he is not as crazy as he seems,’ Veller recalled, repeating the intelligence he had received.
The information described Dave as possessing unmatched strength, as well as a reputation for ruthlessly dealing with druids and enforcing the brutal labor laws of Landa. While his notoriety was significant, there were also rumors that it was exaggerated. In reality, Dave was known to prefer negotiation over brute force, a fact that made him somewhat approachable.
Thus, Veller seized the opportunity to interrupt. After all, as long as Oliver’s dragon was not attacking, it was essentially neutral. And, a follower of order was expected to show proper respect to a king who operated under the authority of the Pater Church.
In line with this logic, Veller interjected to assert his bravery and stake his claim to future affairs, considering that he was, in his mind, the true master of this land.
"I extend my thanks to the hero of Landa for his assistance. However, as the king of this nation—"
“—Archpriest Roderick.”
Oliver called out to Roderick, interrupting Veller mid-sentence, an act of outright defiance toward a sovereign, not out of forgetfulness but seemingly out of sheer disregard.
Veller’s face flushed red with rage at the brazen rudeness, just as Oliver spoke once more.
“I happened to hear on my way here of a rumored site of human sacrifice near where the black magicians are being held.”
At once, the air seemed to freeze, and Veller’s face went deathly pale.
“Human sacrifice? Devil worship?”
“Well, I can’t say for sure if it’s devil worship, but I’ve heard that people were indeed offered up.”
“Do you know where this is?” asked Roderick.
Oliver glanced at Veller, who was now sweating profusely.
“That part, I can’t be certain of. It seems like something I may have heard, though…”
And with that statement, all the kings in the Central Continent, including Veller, fell silent.