Chapter 724: Traces of Sin (1)
Crackle.
[This is Landa’s—]
Crackle.
[…an unidentified event at the Tower of Magic…]
Crackle.
[All citizens are advised to stay safe…]
Crackle.
[Though these are troubled times, our Landa…]
All residents of Landa knew well enough.
They knew that Landa’s proud radio news channel reported countless lies and slander each year.
The reason was simple: money.
Unlike newspapers, the radio, with its cutting-edge technology, was still ultimately run by people who also liked money.
So, with the right amount of money slipped under the table, truths could be hidden, and lies could be broadcast just as easily.
The freedom of the press was flexible enough to accommodate a few lies here and there.
And, as mentioned before, Landa’s residents were well aware of this.
Yet, no one raised an issue about it.
For one, the articles, laced with lies and slander, were rather entertaining, and at times, they even reported some truth.
For instance, the recently broadcast report on the “troubled times” was no lie.
Landa was indeed in turmoil. Absolutely.
And no need to look far for proof.
Recently, there had been one major incident after another: an invasion by the Pied Piper, the discovery of a contaminated zone during city reconstruction, an assault by a vast army of zombies, and the Royal Army’s stationing in Landa.
Each event held the potential to destroy or cripple the city.
However, the most menacing of these was the last—“the Royal Army’s occupation of Landa.”
It may sound odd.
After all, neither the Pied Piper’s invasion by an inhuman monster, the unknown contamination, nor the army of countless zombies was deemed as the greatest threat—but rather, the Royal Army’s occupation of Landa.
But it was the truth.
In terms of raw physical damage, the first three incidents might have seemed more severe. But while the first three caused bodily, physical, and material harm…
The Royal Army’s presence was a blow to the spirit, soul, and psyche of the people.
Being under the Royal Army’s protection posed a threat to the very essence of Free City.
Yet, Landa’s city council members and most citizens did not dare oppose it.
They were afraid.
They feared that if the Royal Army were driven out, the undead horde that had once pushed Landa to the brink of ruin would reemerge from the sewers and attack again.
After all, it was the Royal Army that had forced the zombie army to retreat. Because of this, no one dared consider expelling the Royal Army.
Even as the Royal Army violated Landa’s freedom and pride with demands and placed council members under house arrest, they chose security at the cost of a bit of freedom.
And indeed, a semblance of peace was achieved.
But, as if displeased with the citizens’ choice, Landa, the Free City, soon plunged into further turmoil.
To replenish their lacking forces, the Royal Army deployed troops who suddenly attacked District Y and District Z, and soon, rumors spread of the return of Woodcutter Dave.
This was no ordinary news, and an unsettling atmosphere spread across the entire city.
In response to this tension, news soon broke that Dave had assaulted the Royal Army, slaughtering every prisoner and guard in Landa’s prison.
This was broadcast on every radio channel.
Speculative articles flooded the airwaves, claiming that the zombie horde belonged to Dave, that he was behind every dark sorcerer, or that he attacked the Royal Army to establish a city for dark sorcerers, or even that he intended to sacrifice every soul in Landa.
Crackle.
Suddenly, every radio channel went silent, and a conversation was faintly heard.
It was a conversation between Woodcutter Dave and Royal Army Major Billy Crowley.
In that broadcast, Major Billy openly confessed…
He admitted that he, along with the royal elite, had allied with the dark sorcerer Puppet.
That half-confession sent shockwaves through the United Kingdom’s colonial territories and even its heart, Celland, causing (unfavorable) upheaval in the stock and futures markets.
With events reaching this point, most Landa citizens locked themselves indoors, hoping for this war—or rather, this catastrophe—to end swiftly.
But just as rumors of impending ruin swirled, the disaster showed no sign of ending.
Suddenly, an immense wave of magical energy was detected above the Tower of Magic, followed by sporadic earthquakes shaking all of Landa.
Rumble...
Rumble...
Unnatural, artificially induced quakes.
“Mom, what’s going on?”
“I’m right here, honey. Come here.”
“Is this a curse?”
“No, it’ll be fine soon…”
“Should we have sold everything and left after all?”
“You know we can’t sell right now, anyway.”
Regardless of age, gender, wealth, or education, all citizens of Landa felt a mix of anxiety and hope in the worsening situation.
Until a final event drew a period on this grim chapter.
Kyaha haha hahak...!!
Gwaaang!! Gwaaang!!
Grrrk... Grrk...!!
The zombie horde’s re-invasion.
Clang... bang bang bang.
Boom!
This army of corpses emerged from manholes, the Sem River, and even directly from the ground, swarming all over Landa once again.
From administrative areas to industrial zones, from affluent neighborhoods to the middle class, and even the slums.
At that moment, every citizen of Landa froze in terror. Even the defense forces and the Royal Army, who had once repelled the zombie horde, were paralyzed with fear.
The Royal Army hadn’t defeated the zombies on its own; it had merely served the will of Puppet.
Now, Puppet had launched another assault, and both citizens and police, along with the defense forces and the Royal Army, were left helpless, watching in despair.
It may sound like a poor excuse, but honestly, there was nothing else they could do.
With an uncountable swarm of zombies flooding the city in perfect coordination, what could they possibly achieve?
Even knowing that the undead would attack again, there was simply no countermeasure.
Just as the nightmares of the past seemed to resurface…
Snap!
Suddenly, the snap of someone’s fingers echoed, and a blinding white light engulfed Landa in an instant.
So swift and brief that it felt like a fleeting mirage.
But it was no illusion.
“Wh-what… what is…?”
“Oh… oh…”
“…?!?!”
“That… that light…”
As the flash of white light swept through the city, every zombie, corpse puppet, and golem zombie turned to ash.
So effortlessly.
And not just those aboveground. Unseen to the people, zombies and golem zombies below in the sewers, along with corpse puppets crafted from high-ranking sorcerers, druids, and dark sorcerers, disintegrated into ashes without a hint of resistance.
Amazingly, no human or object was harmed aside from the zombies.
“…”
“…”
“…”
As if by instinct, those who noticed this incredible event fell silent, folding their hands in awe and reverence, all gazing in unison at the direction from which the light had emanated.
At the end of their line of sight was the Tower of Magic.
...
A cold, fierce wind swept through...
In the center plaza at the heart of the Tower of Magic, there were only two figures.
Neither of them could be called human—“existence” was a more accurate description.
One stood with a detached expression, while the other was on its knees, despair evident in its posture.
The reason for its despair was simple.
Before its eyes, hundreds of zombies, corpse puppets, and golem zombies, painstakingly created over centuries as a contingency, had been reduced to ashes at the snap of a single finger.
Centuries of effort wiped out in a single moment.
It was beyond mere strength, speed, or destructive power.
This was not a display of mere might or technique, but something closer to a miracle.
It was as if a bolt of divine retribution had struck down upon a defiant unbeliever.
And most astonishing of all, the one who had performed this divine feat wore an expression not of satisfaction or triumph, but of emptiness, almost boredom.
Though he had reduced countless zombies to ashes with a single snap, he showed no trace of pride or joy.
Just as breathing, walking, and speaking were natural acts, he accepted this miraculous feat as a mundane occurrence—a strange, irrational ease.
From that, Puppet felt a profound, harrowing despair. Simultaneously—
“You said earlier, did you not, Puppet? That you despise beings like me?”
“…”
“I’ve been thinking it over. Why is it, exactly, that you hate beings like me… Puppet, is it because you resent the gods?”
“…”
“Though all creatures are shaped by the hands of the divine, unlike others, you yourself were not... and you simply cannot bear it, can you?”
As Oliver spoke, Puppet’s limbs began to tremble, the quaking gradually intensifying. At last, with a beast-like roar, Puppet lunged at Oliver.
Puppet tore a book from thin air and flung it.
Yet, the book—little more than spent embers of his former power—crumbled to dust before it could even reach Oliver, leaving no trace.
“Puppet, you are a creation deprived of the blessings of the divine.”
“Uwaaaaa—!!”
Unfazed, Oliver continued speaking as Puppet screamed and attacked him.
Puppet, in turn, let out a cry of anguish, hurling one attack after another at Oliver. It was not to kill but to silence that cursed mouth of his. Oliver’s words hurt more than any blow Puppet had ever endured.
“Unlike this world, made by divine wisdom, you merely exist as a crafted being, like oak turned into a table leg.”
“Argh!! Gyaaah—!!”
“And so, bereft of blessings, you were born, forever unable to experience them. No warm human blood flows within you, nor do you have flesh capable of sensing the world’s grace.”
“Hurrgh…! Hurrgh…”
“Though you try to enjoy blessings by stealing others’ flesh, just as you exist as an imitation, that, too, is false—not real. Deep down, you know this. You can never genuinely feel, nor truly live a life, nor find a place of belonging, nor share in real connection. You’re simply a creature… one of a kind, utterly alone.”
“Aaaargh…! Aaaaaahhhhhhhh—!!!”
Screaming, Puppet attacked Oliver, only to collapse from exhaustion, his strength spent after a fierce struggle.
But even so, Puppet didn’t stop, clawing at the ground and throwing stones to silence Oliver. It was pitiful.
The feeble stones flew toward Oliver only to slow mid-air, eventually dropping straight to the ground.
“Even if there were other creatures like you, most would lack a sense of self as strong as yours. And with your fierce pride, accepting them as kin would be impossible. You must have felt utterly alone… resentful.”
Oliver stepped closer to the slumped Puppet, who scrambled backward, still on his knees, trying to escape.
But Oliver continued his approach.
“Now that I think about it, everything makes sense. Puppet, your goal has always been to create souls and resurrect people. But that’s not all—you’ve been using corpse puppets to experience sensations like taste and the wind, indulging in experiments unrelated to your core research… because you wanted to feel alive, to experience the world’s blessings. You sought to prove you weren’t a mere imitation. I see that now.”
Puppet’s spirit wavered, cracks forming in his psyche as Oliver’s words pierced deeper. With each crack, more of Puppet’s true nature was exposed, glimpses of information that had once been veiled by his demonic facade.
“Oh, and that’s why you took Lilith with you as well. Not because you needed Eve, but because you longed for someone you could genuinely connect with. You were so, so lonely.”
“A… aah…”
Gripping his chest in torment, Puppet mustered the last of his strength, attempting a teleportation spell.
He needed to escape Oliver at all costs. But he failed.
Oliver wouldn’t permit it.
“What a pity,” Oliver murmured. “Pandora and Eve have likely subdued Lilith by now.”
With his teleportation thwarted, Puppet, now in a half-panicked state, attempted to crawl away on all fours.
“Haaak! Haaah… aaaargh!”
When he finally turned, he stumbled backward, falling onto his backside in terror.
Oliver was right in front of him.
Desperate, Puppet tried to escape in the opposite direction, only to find a wall barring his way—a wall that hadn’t been there moments ago.
He didn’t understand how, but one thing was clear: there was no escape.
“Puppet, you cannot save Lilith. Just as you tried to harm me but failed.”
Cornered with no way out, Puppet slumped against the wall, defeated.
Leaning in, Oliver whispered to Puppet.
“Just as you’ve failed for hundreds of years, defying the gods in your quest to become human, so too will you fail again. I promise you, Puppet—you will keep failing. Hundreds, thousands, even tens of thousands of years may pass, but your efforts will end in failure because you are no work of the divine. You are an unblessed creation crafted by one insignificant old man. And above all, I wish that you…”
Smash!
Just then, as Oliver spoke, an unexpected force intervened. Out of thin air, a figure appeared, thrusting a blade, shaped like a giant spike, between Oliver and Puppet.
Oliver, unfazed, raised his arm to block, while the figure swung the enormous spike with a fierce counter.
The two clashed, Oliver’s hand meeting the spike with a fierce slash.
Oliver was forced back, a minuscule scratch appearing on his hand.
“…”
He examined the scratch for a long moment, then looked up to see the figure standing between him and Puppet.
It was none other than the “Unyielding Knee.”
He had come to block Oliver’s path, a Prince of Hell born from Puppet’s twisted creation…