Chapter 681: The Nuns (2)
"Have you arrived?"
The vast building of the Holy See...
Entering a large room set up on one side, Kevin greeted him.
His disciple with black hair and red skin.
Merlin, who had just emerged from the underground of the Holy See, replied as though he were fine.
"Yes... seeing you welcome me so warmly, you must have something to report."
"Yes."
Kevin, who never smiled, answered briefly and clearly, without humor at Merlin’s joke.
It seemed that all his disciples were distant from laughter.
Perhaps, this too was destiny, an unavoidable path.
"Ah, to keep bothering an old man like me... go ahead and tell me."
Feigning a groan of exhaustion, Merlin sat down in a chair.
He truly was tired, but that made it all the more necessary to pretend he was fine. It would make him seem resilient.
Kevin answered Merlin’s question in his usual manner.
"To start, Yareli has departed for Landa, as she mentioned before."
"I see."
Merlin responded indifferently.
Ever since he had heard from Puppet that the Tower of Magic and Landa had suffered great damage, Yareli had already expressed her intent to return to Landa. There was no particular reaction Merlin needed to show. There was nothing immediate he could do for her, either.
"Please accept this."
Despite Merlin’s nonchalant response, Kevin handed over a stack of papers with the same demeanor he’d had at the beginning.
"It’s a report on the damage to the Tower of Magic."
Flutter. Flutter. Flutter. Merlin examined the papers.
As Kevin had said, the pages recorded the damage suffered by the Tower of Magic.
In quite a bit of detail, too.
"Regardless of school or faction, the wizards and students affiliated with the Tower of Magic have all suffered significant losses. Particularly, the leadership—the Archmages and Grandmasters."
Merlin nodded.
As Kevin described, the Tower of Magic had sustained severe damage, with the leadership, including the Grandmasters and Archmages, bearing almost half of the casualties.
Considering Puppet’s tactics, it was clear that he had targeted those who actively resisted him first, meaning the actual toll was likely even higher.
An unprecedented scale of damage in the Tower of Magic's history.
And Kevin had managed to secure this detailed report amidst the turmoil, delivering it to Merlin.
"Did you request it?"
"Yes, I made use of your name, Master."
"Splendid."
Merlin praised him, genuinely, not sarcastically.
He had been occupied with the matter of Oliver, and Kevin had skillfully filled that gap.
It could have been seen as problematic to invoke Merlin’s name, but considering Merlin had taught him such methods, there was no need for criticism.
In a world as chaotic as this, a small lie was almost a virtue.
Above all, as a Red-Skinned Warlock, Kevin wouldn’t have been able to gather this information without leveraging his master’s name, Archive Merlin.
It was a skillful maneuver.
Kevin merely continued his report without a word.
"As I said before, the Tower of Magic has been severely damaged. The entire organization, really. If it were a military force, it would be on the brink of disbanding."
"That certainly seems to be the case. The leadership void, in particular, is devastating. If things go poorly, the different schools could dissolve."
"Perhaps in anticipation of such concerns, Archmage Tilda has convened an emergency meeting, intending to recruit external reinforcements."
"An emergency meeting...?"
"During major crises at the Tower of Magic, it’s a meeting where figures from Archmage to Grandmaster rank gather to quickly make Tower-wide decisions. This situation qualifies as one of those times."
Kevin, who was well-versed in all the Tower's regulations, explained.
"This was a rule that had nearly fallen out of use, but it was invoked due to the increased voids in leadership."
"I understand… could the reinforcements they intend to bring in be Military Mages from the Kingdom’s army?"
"Yes."
Currently, the Kingdom’s army had a considerable presence in Landa.
They justified this presence by the risk that the undead army, which had fled underground, might resurface.
Naturally, this army included Military Mages.
With the leadership of the Tower of Magic weakened, they had no choice but to turn to these outsiders for support.
Having explained the situation, Kevin reported:
"This places not only Landa but even the Tower of Magic under the influence of the royal family."
"You sound suspicious."
"Because it’s genuinely suspicious."
Kevin spoke with his characteristic firmness, and Merlin agreed.
The vacancy in the leadership of the Tower of Magic, left by Puppet’s assault.
The Kingdom’s army, appearing at the right moment to fend off the threat.
And Tilda, who used the opportunity to bring in a large number of mages affiliated with the Kingdom.
It felt far too calculated, as though someone had mapped out this situation in advance.
It wasn't a crucial matter at the moment, but...
Merlin decided to take advantage of a brief pause to hear his disciple's thoughts.
Kevin responded with an unexpected answer.
"I don't particularly care."
"...Is that so?"
"Yes, while there are suspicious aspects and a few theories come to mind, I’m not especially interested. Although I am a professor at the Tower of Magic, I don’t feel any attachment to it."
"..."
"And in comparison to the current situation at hand, the Tower is a trivial matter."
Kevin accurately assessed the priorities of the current circumstances.
An objective evaluation, as one might expect from a wizard who had come to retrieve Oliver’s quarterstaff.
Under normal circumstances, the events unfolding at the Tower of Magic would indeed be a major issue, but not now.
Nothing held weight compared to the present situation.
"In that sense, I wanted to ask, the conversation with Zenon... did it go well?"
Kevin, who usually spoke in a precise and confident manner, for once allowed his words to trail off.
"...Are you worried?"
"For many reasons, yes. You don’t seem to be in the best shape, Master."
"...My condition certainly isn’t good."
After a brief delay, Merlin responded, gesturing to his body, which was tightly bandaged, with one eye covered by a worn eyepatch.
It was an injury sustained while blocking Oliver, one that even Holy Magic couldn't heal.
"Still, it’s not all bad, considering you're worried about me... Speaking of which, could you get me the bandages in that drawer?"
At Merlin’s request, Kevin silently fetched a large supply of bandages and scented ointment to mask the smell.
That was the amount required for one use.
"Would you mind stepping out briefly while I change these bandages? I'm rather modest, you see."
"Do you need assistance?"
Merlin hesitated for a moment.
"...I’m sorry, but I’m a man of morals. I can’t engage in that kind of relationship with a disciple."
"Are you out of your mind?"
Kevin responded to Merlin’s jest.
Merlin couldn’t help but chuckle in satisfaction, uncharacteristically laughing like a young man, as Kevin made his way to the door.
Kevin gripped the doorknob.
At that moment, as Merlin began to unravel the bandages, he found himself asking, almost inadvertently:
"...Do you still hate me?"
A pause.
Kevin stopped in his tracks. The air in the room froze with him.
As silence filled the room, an awkward tension filled Merlin’s heart with a pang of regret.
Why had he asked such a foolish, selfish question?
Thud—
Maybe it was because of the countless bandages wrapped around his hidden wounds.
Skin broken like shattered glass, a body damaged beyond repair, with blood trickling slowly through the cracks...
Along with the blood, Merlin’s mental strength and patience seemed to be seeping away. Or perhaps it was simply because his time was nearing its end.
‘Not just yet...’
Looking at his own body, Merlin thought to himself, trying to salvage the mistake he had made.
"I’m sorry. I misspoke. Pay it no mind and just—"
"I hate you, of course."
"..."
"I will hate you for the rest of my life."
Kevin interrupted, his voice resolute, leaving no room for ambiguity.
"I see."
That was all Merlin could say in response.
He didn't add 'naturally' or 'that’s a pity.' He felt he didn’t even deserve that.
"You may leave—"
Knock. Knock.
As Merlin was speaking, and as Kevin seemed about to say something, someone knocked on the door.
Both Merlin and Kevin turned toward the door, wondering who it could be.
A familiar voice came from beyond the door.
"It’s Armand. I’ve come to speak with the Archive."
...
Archpriest Armand.
A rare Holy Knight among the Archpriests, and one of the leaders of the moderate faction, he was also an influential figure as the Chancellor of Gallos.
Understandably so, for he had started as a Holy Knight and risen to the highest clerical rank of Archpriest.
This had earned him a certain familiarity with Archive Merlin.
At one point, they had nearly clashed...
"Red Duke."
"Long time no see, Archive."
Just after the Piper’s death, when he had come to capture Oliver.
However, ironically, here in the heart of the Pater Church, within the Holy See, Archive Merlin and Archpriest Armand had formed a collaborative relationship.
To protect Oliver, no less. The reason for this was...
“I partly agree with the Archive’s intentions.”
In the room, after Kevin had left, and they were alone, the Archpriest spoke openly.
“Dave, Zenon, Oliver... in any case, I judged it better not to harm him.”
Indeed, Armand’s cautious stance on the apocalypse led him to think that, although capturing Oliver was one thing, there was no point in actually harming him. He believed it would only bring about worse consequences for humanity.
"For that, Your Grace, I am forever grateful."
Merlin replied, hastily reapplying bandages and scented ointment. He added a quick remark as well:
“It would have been even better if you hadn’t captured him at all, though.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You know that was impossible. Given the things he’s done, there are far too many witnesses. If we had failed to capture him, it wouldn’t only be the dignity of the Pater Church that was compromised—there would have been utter chaos. Things are already chaotic enough as it is.”
Armand’s final words carried an emotional weight.
As it stood, a substantial portion of the Pater Church’s administrative efforts were directed at quelling rumors about Oliver.
The problem was that, for all their efforts, the results were minimal.
“Besides, you know he surrendered himself willingly, don’t you? Had that not been the case, capturing him would’ve been impossible.”
Armand recognized that Oliver had allowed himself to be captured.
As one of the greatest Holy Knights of his time, Armand understood that if Oliver had intended to flee or retaliate, it would have been a disaster.
This, in turn, was why he made such efforts to protect Oliver.
“But this effort is reaching its limit.”
Armand began to address the main issue.
“As you probably know, the Archpriests are increasingly inclined to push for his execution. Foolish as it may be, it’s inevitable. Their fear and anxiety are only growing… soon, they will find out about the final catalyst.”
“What might that be?”
Without delay, Armand pulled out a map.
It was a map of the Chosen State, with two lines drawn across it.
Starting from the center of the continent, the lines stretched all the way to its borders.
Merlin could guess what these lines represented.
“I heard the Piper was reduced to dust. By a single gesture of his finger.”
“That’s correct.”
“Now, such a catastrophe has occurred across borders, spanning countries and races alike. Everyone within the scope of these lines…”
Armand pointed to the two lines marked on the map, each line cutting across the continent from center to border.
“All the people within these lines were reduced to dust.”
“...Everyone?”
“Yes, men, women, children, elderly, rich, poor, civilians, and criminals—no exceptions. We discovered this through reports to the temples in cities and towns that witnessed this phenomenon. Some villages have yet to report, of course.”
“Why haven’t they reported it?”
“Because every single person in those villages was reduced to dust.”
Merlin fell silent, at a loss for words.
“We sent scouts to check the villages within those lines when we hadn’t heard back. When our people arrived, they found entire villages empty. The buildings, the trees—everything was intact, except there was no sign of people.”
Even as Armand spoke, there was a hint of fear in his expression, and Merlin felt the same.
To reduce only people to dust, leaving all else untouched...
The malice behind it was beyond comprehension.
“It may not look like much, being just lines on a map, but in reality, it’s anything but. The sheer scale of this disaster is beyond reckoning... if those lines had only shifted a little, passing through Gallos’s capital or a major city like Landa, I shudder to imagine the devastation.”
Merlin nodded.
If Oliver’s finger had pointed toward a densely populated city, the destruction would have been unspeakable.
And if the Archpriests learned of this, their fear and panic would reach their peak.
They might even come to believe that, unless Oliver was killed, they themselves would be next.
“When did you learn of this?”
“This morning, after our investigation.”
“When will you announce it?”
“I can’t keep it hidden for long. As I mentioned, countless people were turned to dust, and inquiries are pouring in at the temples. Each country is investigating as well, and the press has caught wind of it. Soon enough, even the Archpriests who are preoccupied with him will know.”
Merlin understood what Armand was hinting at.
While Armand wanted to help the Archive, he needed to maintain his credibility among the Archpriests and thus had to disclose the information himself.
He understood.
This wasn’t something that could remain secret indefinitely. If Armand tried to hide it, his standing with the Archpriests would be shattered, and he would lose his influence.
That would be the worst possible outcome. So he was asking Merlin to bring a solution first, while he kept silent.
The problem was, Merlin himself had no idea what to do.
This person had caused a continental loss of life with a mere gesture. What could any one individual possibly do?
“I say again, the moment this fact is revealed, the already uneasy Archpriests will be plunged into uncontrollable fear. They’ll be willing to go to any lengths—even sending personal assassins without authorization.”
“Do they truly believe they can kill him?”
Merlin asked, as if the question slipped out unbidden. It was something he had wanted to ask for a long time.
Did they really think they could kill Oliver if he chose not to respond?
Armand gave a wry smile.
“Trying to approach it logically is absurd. The very nature of an apocalypse defies logic. And those gripped by fear will be the same. They’ll see doing something as better than nothing... Are you all right?”
Armand asked, sensing something off in Merlin’s response, which was unlike him.
Merlin seemed to realize his own lapse and composed himself.
“My apologies. I must be more fatigued than I thought.”
“Well, considering you went underground to see him… did you make any progress? In your conversation with him?”
Armand’s tone carried a faint hint of hope.
Though he was a seasoned statesman who didn’t rely on luck, he couldn’t help but wonder.
It was human nature, after all, to cling to such thoughts when faced with situations beyond one’s control.
In response, Merlin recalled his conversation with Oliver.
‘I still see it. The sins of everyone, including you, as vividly as if they’re happening right now.’
‘I… I can’t do it.’
Oliver had refused.
He had declined Merlin’s plea for mercy and forgiveness.
It was understandable, in a way. How could anyone offer mercy or forgiveness when they could see all of humanity’s sins?
Even a god would struggle with such a burden.
It wasn’t a question of power alone.
Perhaps, though he might not forgive, he was already showing mercy.
The mere act of holding back from punishing humans could be considered merciful.
But ironically, voices calling for Oliver’s death were rising all around.
And opposing them, in a contradiction of principles, were Archive Merlin and Archpriest Armand, each representing their respective factions within the Pater Church.
"Hmm?"
"Is something wrong?"
“It seems like someone is missing... where is Archpriest Roderick?”
“He stepped out briefly, saying he had business to attend to. Something about a long-watched group showing signs of activity…”
Buzzz. Buzzz.
In the middle of Armand’s reply, a faint vibration sounded.
One subtle enough to be unnoticed by most.
However, both Archpriest Armand and Archive Merlin detected it.
The vibration came from within Armand’s pocket.
Armand retrieved a small, hidden communication device.
It was a familiar item since Merlin had given it to him.
They had shared communication devices to facilitate coordination on matters related to Oliver.
This meant that something serious might be happening.
Could someone have already sent an assassin after Oliver? Or was there collusion among the Archpriests?
A myriad of possibilities raced through Merlin’s mind.
But the message from the device was even more shocking than any of these conjectures.
[Armand, come quietly with some Holy Knights. We’ve found traces of demon worship at the convent.]