Chapter 745: Dave (2)
Oliver suddenly appeared and greeted everyone.
At that moment, it felt as if all sound had vanished.
Not only the voices and breathing of people, but even the ominous crackling of flames devouring the buildings and air was gone. It was pure silence.
A silence of boundless peace.
In the midst of a city plunged into chaos, this silence seemed to wash over people's hearts like water.
The fear-stricken hearts of citizens, the anxiety-stained hearts of Terrence and Philip, even the heart of the black magician hiding beyond the corpse puppets—all of them...
In the midst of this, Oliver knelt on one knee to meet Edith's gaze.
"It seems you've been through quite a lot, haven't you?"
Edith, whose body had been pierced through from his abdomen to his back, exhaled a breath that seemed to teeter on the brink of stopping altogether and stared directly at Oliver.
His expression was one of someone entranced, as if he had forgotten he was dying.
But Edith, a gladiator from Landa who had traded his conscience for the heart of a beast, quickly snapped back to reality and spoke.
"…Damn it, you're late."
"Heroes are supposed to be late."
At Oliver’s reply, Edith’s eyes widened. If exaggerated, it was almost as if his eyeballs would pop out.
That statement was truly astonishing, something far from typical of Oliver.
"You seem to have been through a lot yourself, haven’t you?"
"It wouldn’t be a lie to say that. A lot has indeed happened."
"Then, the rumors were true?"
The Prince of Hell. The heart of the apocalypse.
After defeating the Pied Piper, rumors about Oliver spread throughout the underworld, and Edith referenced them.
"Yes, that's correct."
Oliver answered without a hint of hesitation, as if it were nothing at all.
He confirmed that he was the Prince of Hell, the heart of the apocalypse.
Edith was quietly astonished.
It wasn’t the fact that Oliver was the Prince of Hell that shocked him. If it was Oliver, he thought, it wouldn’t be surprising if he was the Prince of Hell or even greater than that.
What startled Edith was Oliver's attitude.
Despite possessing unmatched talent and power that others could hardly dare approach, Oliver, who had always been humble to the point of self-deprecation, now accepted such an immense title so casually.
Personality, after all, is innate and fundamental; it rarely changes.
It’s harder than changing rivers and mountains.
Yet Oliver had changed this much? Truly, he couldn’t tell if it was a good thing or a bad thing.
People, after all, tended to change for the worse rather than the better. Just as he himself had.
“I didn’t realize you were so interested in me.”
“What?”
“It’s a question that shows you have some interest in me.”
“…I’m a talented investor, after all.”
“Indeed. I thought there might be another reason. For example, maybe conflicting feelings or even love…”
Oliver trailed off, glancing at Jane. Edith, spitting blood, flared up in anger.
“You little bastard—cough! Cough!! You damn—!!”
Edith flared up like someone whose sore was touched. Oliver ignored him lightly.
“To think I’d see this side of you, Edith. It seems I came late for the better.”
“Grah—cough!! …Ugh! Damn it all…!! Have you always had this kind of personality?!”
“I decided to live a little more cheerfully. By the way, would you like to make a confession?”
“…What the hell are you talking about, you lunatic?”
“You’re dying, Edith, and I thought you might have some sins to atone for.”
“This crazy bastard, joking right till the end—”
“-Edith.”
Oliver cut off Edith’s words, his voice deadly serious.
“This isn’t a joke. Are you sure you don’t need to confess?”
A brief silence fell. After thinking it over, Edith sneered as he replied.
“…No need. Confessions are for people who regret their sins and seek forgiveness. I may have sinned, but I’ve never regretted it, nor have I ever wanted forgiveness.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes, if I hadn’t sinned… If I’d lived like these pathetic fools pretending to be saints, do you think I’d be here, by your side?”
Saying this, Edith stared directly at Jane, then at those around him.
Despite the fatal wound in his abdomen, he looked vividly resolute.
“Are you all listening? I don’t regret a single thing I did! I won’t whine or regret like you all!! These were my choices!! This is the end I chose! I regret neither my life, nor my worthless daughter, nor my final end! Not one bit!!”
“Alright.”
Oliver, in an almost comical tone, placed his hand over Edith’s abdominal wound.
An abrupt move.
Edith was struck with disbelief, and soon, for the second time that day, he was astonished.
When Oliver lifted his hand, the wound that had pierced through his abdomen and back had vanished, as if it had never been there.
“What…?”
Edith, shocked, touched his abdomen where the wound had been.
There was no scar, only the bloodstain on his shirt indicating he had ever been injured.
A wound healed like a miracle. Edith looked at Oliver with an expression of utter incomprehension.
As if he couldn’t wrap his head around what was happening, he merely asked why.
“So you can live on and regret.”
“Wh-What…?”
“So you can live a little longer and experience regret. Though, if you prefer, you can keep living as you have.”
“…”
“I can only help a bit. From here on, it’s entirely your choice, Edith.”
Words so bold and one-sided. After a long pause, Edith murmured quietly.
“Come to think of it. I never liked you.”
“I quite like you, Edith.”
With that, Oliver rose to his feet.
As he stood, his eyes met Jane’s, and he silently signaled her with his gaze, asking for her understanding.
Then he approached Terrence, or more precisely, Prince Albert, who was wrapped in the charred remnants of a tent.
“May I have a word with the prince?”
The word "prince" sent a stir through the crowd, and Terrence froze, unable to speak.
Normally, he would have lied or kept a straight face, but he found himself overwhelmed by Oliver’s indescribable presence, unable to do anything.
His mind told him he should lie, but his body refused.
Just as he found himself trapped, unable to do anything...
Rustle.
From within the half-burnt tent, Prince Albert revealed himself.
“Greetings, Your Highness. It seems you've changed a bit.”
Oliver spoke, observing the prince.
Indeed, Albert was somewhat different from the last time they had met.
The last time Oliver saw Albert was in Landa, when he had been a well-dressed, clean young man.
Now, he was poorly dressed, smeared with sweat and soot, and looked terribly unkempt.
It seemed that this young prince, too, had been through a lot. Just like everyone else here.
"Dave..."
“Please, hand the prince over to us!”
With Prince Albert’s appearance, a voice from the crowd shouted.
As if that first voice broke the silence, everyone began shouting in unison.
“Please, we beg of you! You don’t know what’s happening in this city!”
“The royal family is guilty! He must pay for his sins!”
“Please, show mercy and help us!!”
The crowd, each with their own grievances, pleas, and declarations of justice, begged Oliver to hand over the prince.
Their words crashed over him like a wave of emotions and language, relentless in their attempt to persuade him. But the problem was...
“What would you like to do, Your Highness?”
It was all completely ineffective against Oliver.
Despite the crowd’s voices, recounting the tragedy unfolding in the capital, pleading for aid, Oliver merely listened, unmoved.
"Dave...?"
“I want to hear the prince’s opinion as well. I know roughly what’s going on. So, Your Highness, what do you wish to do?”
Terrence, watching from the sidelines, tried to speak, but Oliver pressed his finger to his lips, silencing him.
It was an oddly strange feeling, as if he couldn’t tell whether he was silenced by force or by his own will. Terrence simply fell silent, gazing at Prince Albert.
Finally, after a long silence, Prince Albert opened his mouth.
“My... my brother is preparing a ritual… I don’t know what exactly, but he’s betrayed everyone. The kingdom, the people, even our family…”
“I’m listening.”
“Joanna, the Daughter of Angels, warned me that he might do this.”
“I’m listening.”
“But I ignored it, thinking my brother would never do such a thing.”
“I’m listening.”
“On top of that, I ran away. Even as my mother lay fallen, as disaster threatened to consume the city, I ran.”
“I’m listening.”
“On the way, I turned a blind eye as orphans were hunted. At the execution ground... because of me, people were hurt. And...”
Prince Albert confessed all the horrors he had witnessed and the many things he had endured. He looked anguished.
“So, I…”
“Your Highness.”
“…”
“I’m not asking about the sins you've committed. I want to know what you hope for now. Not your guilt, but your desire.”
Oliver looked at Prince Albert with eyes as calm and deep as a lake.
Albert flinched, as if struck, and after a moment, spoke in a desperate voice.
“Help me…”
He asked for help.
At that, Oliver placed a hand on Prince Albert’s head, awkwardly patting him.
Then he stepped forward to face the crowd.
As Oliver looked at them, the people who had been shouting for the prince to be handed over fell silent, one by one, until there was silence once more.
In that quiet, Oliver spoke.
With one hand wrapped in bandages, his hair partly bleached white, and his frame thin as if he could collapse at any moment...
“I’ve heard your voices well. You’ve asked me to hand the prince over to you, haven’t you?”
“Yes, that’s right!”
The crowd shouted.
Realizing they couldn’t take him by force, they tried to persuade Oliver with words.
“This city is in shambles, all because of the royal family.”
“Yes! They betrayed us and allied with black magicians!”
“He’s a criminal! He must pay for his sins!”
The people spoke of the tragedy of the city, the betrayal of the royal family, and demanded justice.
Oliver agreed.
“Perhaps you’re right. As the prince said, he turned a blind eye to the truth before him, fled in cowardice, and ignored others. That is a sin.”
“Exactly, so—”
“But, as you heard, Prince Albert didn’t know about this incident.”
The agitated crowd fell silent, as if cold water had been poured over them.
They wanted to shout that he was lying, but meeting Oliver’s calm gaze, they couldn’t.
As if he’d ask, ‘Do you truly believe that?’ and they wouldn’t be able to answer.
Then, someone shouted.
“He… he’s a prince! A prince! The second in line to the throne! Even if he knew nothing, he still has a duty in this chaos!”
The man shifted the argument from "sin" to "duty."
It was sudden, but it wasn’t wrong.
Albert was a prince. Even if he wasn’t responsible for the chaos, he had a duty to quell it. That was the burden of being a prince.
Oliver agreed once more.
“You’re not wrong. A prince is a prince, no matter what.”
“Then…”
“But, sir, have you fulfilled all your duties?”
The man’s face hardened.
“As a child, have you respected your parents? As a sibling, have you cared for your brothers? As a husband, were you faithful to your wife? As a father, have you loved your children? As a neighbor, did you live in harmony? Have you done your utmost in your work…?”
The man fell silent, unable to respond.
Oliver turned from him and asked the crowd.
“I am neither accusing nor blaming you. I simply want to ask. If anyone here is without sin, if anyone has not abandoned their duty, please come forward and take the prince.”
Oliver ended his words, waving his hand.
The steel wall that had separated the crowd from Prince Albert retracted, returning to its original form as a sword.
Now, anyone could step forward and seize the prince if they wished.
But not a single person moved.
Though nothing was physically barring their way, it felt as if a larger, sturdier wall stood in their path, preventing them from crossing.
They could only stand there, looking away from Oliver’s gaze.
And the only feeling they had now was shame.
The shame one should feel as a person.
“Your words are not wrong. The prince does bear his own sins and duties. However, if we judge him excessively just because he is a prince, that too is cruel. Allowing that would mean permitting contempt for the poor and oppression of the weak. Is that truly what you desire?”
“...We just want to live.”
Someone in the crowd, head bowed, sobbed.
“We just want to live… The city burns, the sky turns black, and the city is twisted. What should we do?”
They were pleading, asking what they should do.
“The royal palace is surrounded by an army, so we can’t even block it. We can’t leave the city. The radio says this is only the beginning. Then what are we supposed to do? We want to live. Heaven has abandoned us—what are we supposed to do!?”
A desperate cry. People began to weep, caught between action and inaction.
As their cries reached a crescendo, Oliver, who had been listening in silence, spoke.
“Heaven has not abandoned you.”
The people, looking at the ground, ashamed and despairing, raised their heads.
And Oliver, looking at them, spoke again.
“Heaven has not abandoned you. I am here.”