Ratatat-tat… Crash!!
Upon Oliver’s swift strike, ripples emanated from the putrid pool of blood on the ground, and Human-meat Chef closed in on Oliver with great speed.
With a safe distance between them, Chef brandished his knife, and Oliver, too, defended himself by swinging his dagger.
The clash of steel against steel produced a sharp sound, accompanied by a subtle shockwave.
“A unique checkered blade… Crafted in the traditional way from Northland steel, I see.” observed Human-meat Chef as they confronted each other with their blades.
Indeed, his words held true.
The dagger was none other than a gift from Willes, one of the leaders of the Kell Liberation Army.
After vanquishing Bathory at Mountain Pace, Oliver had shown kindness to him, offering alcohol and cigarettes. In return, Willes had bestowed this dagger upon him.
Possessing this dagger signified that Oliver could expect assistance within the Kell community or potentially meet with Willes himself.
In essence, it served as a form of identification.
Human-meat Chef continued to scrutinize Oliver’s dagger and spoke once more.
“Nice knife! Northland steel is inherently good, and when forged traditionally, it enhances magic and black magic conductivity. However, it’s not something easily bought with money. How did you come to possess it? Was it a gift?”
“Yes,” Oliver replied.
“Lucky you. I’ll take care of it along with your quarterstaff!”
Taking this as a signal, Human-meat Chef forcefully pushed Oliver back and swung his knife with malice.
Pushed backward but swiftly regaining his balance thanks to his robe, Oliver matched Chef’s attack with his dagger.
And so, dozens of dark lines crisscrossed in the air, clashing at a speed almost imperceptible to the naked eye.
It resembled a tempest of blades, their intensity extraordinary and nearly impossible to approach.
As neither side gained an upper hand, Human-meat Chef suddenly drew a cleaver, reminiscent of an ax, from his waist.
Boom!
With one hand, Chef flamboyantly swung his French knife, while with the other, he forcefully brought down the cleaver, as if splitting firewood.
In reality, Chef’s cleaver sliced through not only the ground but even buildings, everything in its path – except for Oliver.
He remained unscathed.
Seeing that he couldn’t harm Oliver, Chef inquired, “I didn’t know you were so skilled with a blade… Where did you learn?”
Just before Chef’s strike, Oliver had deflected the French knife and narrowly dodged the cleaver’s slash.
Such a feat was possible only if one’s swordsmanship equaled or surpassed that of Human-meat Chef.
Oliver honestly replied, “I never learned.”
“Oh… Is that so?”
“Yes. I learned a bit about quarterstaff, but not the knife… It’s too sharp, makes me uncomfortable.”
“Not learning because you’re too good… That’s an arrogant notion. But why use a knife against me?”
“Because I don’t find it uncomfortable to face you, Mr. Human-meat Chef.”
It was the truth.
While Chef’s origins were undoubtedly human, his current form, filled with immense energy and a body that contained it, transcended any human Oliver had ever encountered.
He knew that just one blow from Chef could be perilous.
So, it was perplexing.
Why wasn’t Chef using his formidable abilities to overpower him immediately? Instead, he seemed to be probing lightly.
It felt like underestimation, but something was amiss.
It was akin to desiring an apple while being wary of potential poison within.
Just as Oliver was about to inquire about this, Human-meat Chef spoke first.
“Oh, so the one who defeated the Son of Heaven thinks highly of me. What an honor.”
From his words, Oliver could discern truth, disdain, and anger.
Chef continued, “Then, shall I respond in kind? To assess your worth… [Corpse Infection]”
As Human-meat Chef chanted, a torrent of emotions surged forth from within him, spreading in all directions.
These emotions, mingling with the putrid blood and flesh of giants, triggered a chemical reaction, giving birth to a disease.
“Do you know what black magic I’ve used?!” he asked as he swiftly approached, swinging his cleaver horizontally. Oliver extended his dagger’s length by channeling emotions and deflected the attack at an oblique angle with a flick of his wrist.
Instead of splitting the building vertically, the cleaver’s strike now sundered it horizontally, a display of immense power.
Nonetheless, Oliver did not retreat but stepped forward and swung his dagger.
Though his blow was blocked by Chef’s French knife, Oliver explained, “Corpse Infection. It’s a kind of plague.”
It was a form of black magic that Oliver had come across in Joseph’s library.
More commonly encountered on battlefields than in cities, this black magic utilized corpses as a catalyst to generate disease.
Although the complexity of this black magic wasn’t particularly high, its level of danger was significant.
This was because the potency of black magic depended not only on the sorcerer’s skill but also on the quality of the materials used. Thus, if there were numerous corpses or if the quality of those corpses was high, the resulting black magic could become more formidable than what the user typically could manage.
This was precisely the situation at present.
Cough.
Oliver coughed and inspected the putrid blood that had stained his clothing, shoes, and various parts of his body.
Despite the magical energy circulating within his body and the protection of his Emotional Robe against disease-weakening black magic, the Corpse Infection persisted in advancing toward Oliver, possibly due to the quality of the material (the giant).
This was happening even though he had recently nullified other disease-weakening black magic effects.
‘I haven’t even completely neutralized them yet.’
Oliver noticed the throbbing in his eyes, the stinging sensation on his skin, his slightly trembling hands, and his sore joints.
Symptoms of eye shingles, red spots, mad nerve disease, and joint petrification still afflicted him. Honestly, up to this point, it had been bearable.
The issue was that it was worsening instead of improving.
Gurgle…
“Ah, looks like it’s starting to take effect.”
Upon hearing Oliver’s stomach growl, Human-meat Chef crossed his cleaver and French knife and swung them in an X-shaped pattern.
The X-shaped sword strike enveloped Oliver, who retaliated by hurling his robe-wrapped quarterstaff.
However, due to a lack of strength and increasing hunger, he was thrown backward.
Unable to withstand the impact, Oliver lost his grip on the quarterstaff, which soared into the air, while he himself fell onto the putrid sea of blood.
Slowly but steadily experiencing escalating hunger, Oliver inquired,
“By ‘taking effect,’ do you mean… the black magic of starvation?”
“Yes.”
“The same black magic from earlier.”
Oliver recalled the people who had been attacked by larva-like creatures and subsequently self-destructed. Human-meat Chef responded once more,
“Right. You do have sharp eyes.”
“Uhm… May I ask why this one isn’t being neutralized? I’ve neutralized the others, but not this one… I was under the impression that this black magic isn’t particularly tricky?”
Indeed, that was the case.
Starvation, formally known as Starvation, was a basic form of disease-weakening black magic.
Naturally, it required fewer resources and was considered less perilous compared to others. To put it more bluntly, it could even be resolved by consuming food.
However, what Oliver was experiencing exceeded this level.
While it wasn’t an immediate threat to his life –
“-it slowly intensifies hunger, right? And it doesn’t get resolved?”
Oliver slowly nodded in response to the question.
He had attempted to neutralize or shake off this hunger since earlier, but it persistently clung to him.
“Of course, it would. It’s made from my emotions.”
Oliver immediately grasped the significance of this statement.
Black magic fueled by a sorcerer’s own emotions was more potent, and furthermore, the stronger the emotions employed, the more potent the effect.
Clutching his hunger-ridden stomach, Oliver scrutinized Human-meat Chef.
Broad shoulders, solid muscles visible even through his shirt, long legs, and a robust physique.
It didn’t appear that he had grown up in poverty, but Oliver knew from his investigation that this was not the case.
On the contrary, Human-meat Chef was intimately acquainted with hunger.
He had spent the majority of his childhood suffering from hunger as the child of a poverty-stricken woodcutter.
‘And eventually, abandoned in the forest…’
Oliver gazed at Human-meat Chef and expressed, “Thank you for the kind explanation.”
“No need to thank me! It’s a pleasure to know my power works on you. It’s given me confidence.”
“?”
“Besides, what does it matter to a soon-to-be dead man? You feel it, don’t you? If you just sit still, you’ll die soon. From hunger.”
“Yes.”
“So, what will you do now?”
Upon hearing this question, Oliver reached out to the sea of putrid and diseased blood, infusing it with mana and emotion to activate blood magic.
After all, blood remained blood.
[Blood Maiden]
In response to Oliver’s summons, the pool of blood on the ground coalesced around Human-meat Chef, taking on the form of a colossal vessel with a woman’s visage.
A massive blood vessel capable of easily engulfing a person.
As Oliver clenched his fist, the blood vessel expanded outward, swiftly enveloping Human-meat Chef.
Chef, confident in his own abilities, showed minimal reaction. Nonetheless, Oliver, undaunted, manipulated the blood vessel to sprout numerous spikes both inside and out.
Spikes made of blood.
Boom!!
With a resounding noise, the spikes densely penetrated from all sides.
Despite the blood vessel being as resilient as steel of similar thickness, Oliver, who had direct control over the blood magic, sensed that his assault hadn’t fully penetrated.
There was no feeling of resistance.
Validating this sensation, something within the blood-formed vessel began to bulge and swell, ultimately bursting forth with a tearing sound akin to the rending of metal.
Shaaang!!
It was a blade forged from sheer fury.
Human-meat Chef had infused his tumultuous emotions, particularly malice, into this emotional blade. The blade of wrath shattered the blood vessel and extended in all directions.
Even with the blood vessel’s robustness, the potency of this rage-infused blade was astonishing.
However, what proved even more astonishing was Human-meat Chef’s physical integrity. Despite being impaled by dozens of spikes as substantial as pillars, his body remained unblemished.
“Now, it’s my turn.”
Human-meat Chef, controlling the blades of emotion that had created deep puncture wounds in the buildings and the earth around, directed them toward Oliver.
Gigantic black blades hurtled at him from all angles.
Attempting to evade, Oliver realized that Chef had infused his emotions into his cleaver and French knife, ready to exploit any gap in his defense.
‘Will this work?’
With this question in mind, Oliver heightened his control over the emotions and divided his robe into several segments, using them to wrap around the incoming slashes, absorbing their impact.
This allowed Oliver to sense Human-meat Chef’s anger not just visually but also through his skin.
Years of accumulated powerlessness and betrayal.
Utilizing his robe, Oliver transferred the absorbed slashes to his dagger and hurled it with all his might toward Human-meat Chef.
Unfazed and sporting a wild grin, Chef launched his own strike at Oliver, and soon the two attacks collided.
Boom!!
Surprisingly, Oliver’s strike overwhelmed Chef’s attack, enveloping him completely.
This outcome was somewhat expected, considering that Oliver’s assault was fueled not only by Chef’s emotions but also by the emotions Oliver had extracted.
As the dust settled, Oliver could observe the aftermath of his attack: a deep trench in the ground filled with blood and the shattered remnants of Chef’s kitchen knife.
However, Human-meat Chef remained unharmed, standing as he had emerged from the blood vessel.
“This is the end-“
-[Blood Wedge]
Oliver invoked blood magic on his previously disregarded quarterstaff and hurled it toward Human-meat Chef.
The quarterstaff, having absorbed as much surrounding blood as possible, transformed into a colossal wedge-shaped projectile, hurtling toward Chef with the force capable of splitting anything in its path.
Yet, even without his kitchen knife, Human-meat Chef made no attempt to evade. Instead, he radiated even greater confidence and channeled power into one of his arms.
His arm swelled with muscles, sprouting scales and claws, resembling more a reptile than a human.
With a single swing of his arm, he shattered Oliver’s blood magic into fragments, relying solely on sheer physical might.
Anticipating this turn of events to some extent, Oliver retrieved his quarterstaff, while Human-meat Chef, brimming with self-assuredness, inquired,
“Got any more efforts left?!”
“Haah… I’m hungry.”
With escalating hunger and fatigue clouding his mind, Oliver responded, yearning for sustenance.
***
“Damn it.”
In the heart of Ravel, now indistinguishable from a battlefield, Kevin, a professor and master of the magic tower, muttered vehemently under his breath.
Because it was, quite literally, a dire situation.
“I did?”
“Make such a demand…?”
“Is that what happened?”
A disheveled wizard, a druid shrouded in a bear’s pelt, and a warlock with a hunched back responded one by one, finishing each other’s sentences.
Listening to this was vexing, but what troubled Kevin even more was the reality that only one individual stood before them, quite literally.
To put it more bluntly, it was Puppet.
“Thank you for believing me so easily.”
“Many people don’t believe my words.”
“It’s made things much quicker.”
Puppet, controlling three corpses simultaneously, spoke.
Although Kevin had reservations about accepting it, he chose to confront the situation pragmatically.
“There’s no one else who can handle such powerful corpse dolls except for Puppet.”
Kevin spoke informally. This wasn’t the time for formalities or politeness when facing such an adversary, especially one who could prove to be an obstacle in these desperate times, with the possibility of the gates of hell opening.
“What I want is simple.”
“Don’t go any further into the city center.”
“Then, I won’t harm anyone else. No one.”
To emphasize his point, numerous corpses were arranged around the corpse dolls.
To begin with, the ragged wizard was seated atop a small mound of bodies, the druid was surrounded by torn corpses, and the warlock was sprawled beside a collection of corpses arranged like specimens, being devoured by voracious pouches.
In total, there were approximately two hundred corpses.
Among them were scholars from Rokuri University, law enforcement officers, military personnel, followers of Human-meat Chef, and civilians.
Just as he had proclaimed, he was excluding anyone attempting to enter Zone 1 from harm.
Kevin maintained his composure and assessed the strength of his allies.
Beside him stood Terence, armed with military gear, Yareli, who had arrived with Oliver’s assistance, and roughly a dozen wizards from Rokuri University, forming a cohesive team.
All of them were combat-ready, constituting an impressive force.
This assembly had successfully vanquished multiple units of Human-meat Chef’s followers and defeated numerous interdimensional creatures.
Kevin himself, aided by a Salamander, had even single-handedly taken down three giants.
A force capable of facing formidable adversaries.
However, despite their prowess, Kevin couldn’t advance further.
He had an instinctive sense that the three corpse dolls before them posed a greater threat than they could handle.
A wizard, a druid, and a warlock. Their peculiar combination aside, each possessed menacing abilities.
Kevin mentally organized the situation.
Human-meat Chef sought to exploit the city’s turmoil to open the gates of hell. Oliver had ventured alone to thwart him, and Puppet blocked the surroundings, obstructing external interference.
It was a perplexing scenario.
“I have just one question. Are you stopping us to open the gates of hell?”
Puppet replied.
“No, I’m not particularly interested in hell or anything like that.”
“I just want to watch.”
“And kill those who try to interfere. What will you do?”
Kevin contemplated deeply, silently communicating with Terence to determine the best course of action given the circumstances.
Their shared battlefield experience enabled them to understand each other’s intentions without the need for words.
“If we don’t enter, would you leave us be, regardless of what else we do?”
Yareli appeared taken aback by this unexpected query.
Puppet responded with composure.
“As I said before… If you don’t interfere, I won’t do anything.”
“On what grounds can we trust you?”
“My current inaction.”
Puppet declared confidently, convincing Kevin.
“We’re turning back… Terence. Send an emergency signal using the communication device and tell everyone to gather at the university. Explain the situation and then evacuate out of the city immediately.”
Kevin stated firmly as he began retracing his steps.
Yareli, who had been silently listening, finally voiced her thoughts.
“Aren’t we going to help Zenon?”
“No, this is helping him. Involving Puppet any further would actually be the opposite.”
Upon hearing Kevin’s explanation, Yareli fell silent.
Yareli, typically composed and logical, although slightly agitated now, recognized that Kevin’s decision was the right one.
The most effective way to aid Zenon at this point was to withdraw and refrain from further entanglement.
“So, we do what we can. Help those we can save to escape from a potential disaster… Is there anything wrong with my thinking?”
None of the wizards from Rokuri University, including Yareli, voiced any objections.
Given the current circumstances, this was the most prudent course of action.
With their experience and judgment, they understood that confronting Puppet would be a formidable challenge.
In fact, it was perilous. Who knew what other types of Corpse dolls lurked beyond the ones they had just encountered.
Intervening now would be akin to adding fuel to the fire.
“So informing Rokuri University about this situation and getting the civilians we’ve rescued, and those we can rescue, out of the city is the best we can do.”
“But… Zenon.”
Yareli muttered with distress. It appeared that she felt a profound debt to Oliver for his assistance.
However, a student remained a student.
While Terence was consoling Yareli, Kevin spoke resolutely.
“Sorry, but from here on, it’s Zenon’s part to handle. There’s nothing more we can do.”
Ratatat-tat… Crash!!
Upon Oliver’s swift strike, ripples emanated from the putrid pool of blood on the ground, and Human-meat Chef closed in on Oliver with great speed.
With a safe distance between them, Chef brandished his knife, and Oliver, too, defended himself by swinging his dagger.
The clash of steel against steel produced a sharp sound, accompanied by a subtle shockwave.
“A unique checkered blade… Crafted in the traditional way from Northland steel, I see.” observed Human-meat Chef as they confronted each other with their blades.
Indeed, his words held true.
The dagger was none other than a gift from Willes, one of the leaders of the Kell Liberation Army.
After vanquishing Bathory at Mountain Pace, Oliver had shown kindness to him, offering alcohol and cigarettes. In return, Willes had bestowed this dagger upon him.
Possessing this dagger signified that Oliver could expect assistance within the Kell community or potentially meet with Willes himself.
In essence, it served as a form of identification.
Human-meat Chef continued to scrutinize Oliver’s dagger and spoke once more.
“Nice knife! Northland steel is inherently good, and when forged traditionally, it enhances magic and black magic conductivity. However, it’s not something easily bought with money. How did you come to possess it? Was it a gift?”
“Yes,” Oliver replied.
“Lucky you. I’ll take care of it along with your quarterstaff!”
Taking this as a signal, Human-meat Chef forcefully pushed Oliver back and swung his knife with malice.
Pushed backward but swiftly regaining his balance thanks to his robe, Oliver matched Chef’s attack with his dagger.
And so, dozens of dark lines crisscrossed in the air, clashing at a speed almost imperceptible to the naked eye.
It resembled a tempest of blades, their intensity extraordinary and nearly impossible to approach.
As neither side gained an upper hand, Human-meat Chef suddenly drew a cleaver, reminiscent of an ax, from his waist.
Boom!
With one hand, Chef flamboyantly swung his French knife, while with the other, he forcefully brought down the cleaver, as if splitting firewood.
In reality, Chef’s cleaver sliced through not only the ground but even buildings, everything in its path – except for Oliver.
He remained unscathed.
Seeing that he couldn’t harm Oliver, Chef inquired, “I didn’t know you were so skilled with a blade… Where did you learn?”
Just before Chef’s strike, Oliver had deflected the French knife and narrowly dodged the cleaver’s slash.
Such a feat was possible only if one’s swordsmanship equaled or surpassed that of Human-meat Chef.
Oliver honestly replied, “I never learned.”
“Oh… Is that so?”
“Yes. I learned a bit about quarterstaff, but not the knife… It’s too sharp, makes me uncomfortable.”
“Not learning because you’re too good… That’s an arrogant notion. But why use a knife against me?”
“Because I don’t find it uncomfortable to face you, Mr. Human-meat Chef.”
It was the truth.
While Chef’s origins were undoubtedly human, his current form, filled with immense energy and a body that contained it, transcended any human Oliver had ever encountered.
He knew that just one blow from Chef could be perilous.
So, it was perplexing.
Why wasn’t Chef using his formidable abilities to overpower him immediately? Instead, he seemed to be probing lightly.
It felt like underestimation, but something was amiss.
It was akin to desiring an apple while being wary of potential poison within.
Just as Oliver was about to inquire about this, Human-meat Chef spoke first.
“Oh, so the one who defeated the Son of Heaven thinks highly of me. What an honor.”
From his words, Oliver could discern truth, disdain, and anger.
Chef continued, “Then, shall I respond in kind? To assess your worth… [Corpse Infection]”
As Human-meat Chef chanted, a torrent of emotions surged forth from within him, spreading in all directions.
These emotions, mingling with the putrid blood and flesh of giants, triggered a chemical reaction, giving birth to a disease.
“Do you know what black magic I’ve used?!” he asked as he swiftly approached, swinging his cleaver horizontally. Oliver extended his dagger’s length by channeling emotions and deflected the attack at an oblique angle with a flick of his wrist.
Instead of splitting the building vertically, the cleaver’s strike now sundered it horizontally, a display of immense power.
Nonetheless, Oliver did not retreat but stepped forward and swung his dagger.
Though his blow was blocked by Chef’s French knife, Oliver explained, “Corpse Infection. It’s a kind of plague.”
It was a form of black magic that Oliver had come across in Joseph’s library.
More commonly encountered on battlefields than in cities, this black magic utilized corpses as a catalyst to generate disease.
Although the complexity of this black magic wasn’t particularly high, its level of danger was significant.
This was because the potency of black magic depended not only on the sorcerer’s skill but also on the quality of the materials used. Thus, if there were numerous corpses or if the quality of those corpses was high, the resulting black magic could become more formidable than what the user typically could manage.
This was precisely the situation at present.
Cough.
Oliver coughed and inspected the putrid blood that had stained his clothing, shoes, and various parts of his body.
Despite the magical energy circulating within his body and the protection of his Emotional Robe against disease-weakening black magic, the Corpse Infection persisted in advancing toward Oliver, possibly due to the quality of the material (the giant).
This was happening even though he had recently nullified other disease-weakening black magic effects.
‘I haven’t even completely neutralized them yet.’
Oliver noticed the throbbing in his eyes, the stinging sensation on his skin, his slightly trembling hands, and his sore joints.
Symptoms of eye shingles, red spots, mad nerve disease, and joint petrification still afflicted him. Honestly, up to this point, it had been bearable.
The issue was that it was worsening instead of improving.
Gurgle…
“Ah, looks like it’s starting to take effect.”
Upon hearing Oliver’s stomach growl, Human-meat Chef crossed his cleaver and French knife and swung them in an X-shaped pattern.
The X-shaped sword strike enveloped Oliver, who retaliated by hurling his robe-wrapped quarterstaff.
However, due to a lack of strength and increasing hunger, he was thrown backward.
Unable to withstand the impact, Oliver lost his grip on the quarterstaff, which soared into the air, while he himself fell onto the putrid sea of blood.
Slowly but steadily experiencing escalating hunger, Oliver inquired,
“By ‘taking effect,’ do you mean… the black magic of starvation?”
“Yes.”
“The same black magic from earlier.”
Oliver recalled the people who had been attacked by larva-like creatures and subsequently self-destructed. Human-meat Chef responded once more,
“Right. You do have sharp eyes.”
“Uhm… May I ask why this one isn’t being neutralized? I’ve neutralized the others, but not this one… I was under the impression that this black magic isn’t particularly tricky?”
Indeed, that was the case.
Starvation, formally known as Starvation, was a basic form of disease-weakening black magic.
Naturally, it required fewer resources and was considered less perilous compared to others. To put it more bluntly, it could even be resolved by consuming food.
However, what Oliver was experiencing exceeded this level.
While it wasn’t an immediate threat to his life –
“-it slowly intensifies hunger, right? And it doesn’t get resolved?”
Oliver slowly nodded in response to the question.
He had attempted to neutralize or shake off this hunger since earlier, but it persistently clung to him.
“Of course, it would. It’s made from my emotions.”
Oliver immediately grasped the significance of this statement.
Black magic fueled by a sorcerer’s own emotions was more potent, and furthermore, the stronger the emotions employed, the more potent the effect.
Clutching his hunger-ridden stomach, Oliver scrutinized Human-meat Chef.
Broad shoulders, solid muscles visible even through his shirt, long legs, and a robust physique.
It didn’t appear that he had grown up in poverty, but Oliver knew from his investigation that this was not the case.
On the contrary, Human-meat Chef was intimately acquainted with hunger.
He had spent the majority of his childhood suffering from hunger as the child of a poverty-stricken woodcutter.
‘And eventually, abandoned in the forest…’
Oliver gazed at Human-meat Chef and expressed, “Thank you for the kind explanation.”
“No need to thank me! It’s a pleasure to know my power works on you. It’s given me confidence.”
“?”
“Besides, what does it matter to a soon-to-be dead man? You feel it, don’t you? If you just sit still, you’ll die soon. From hunger.”
“Yes.”
“So, what will you do now?”
Upon hearing this question, Oliver reached out to the sea of putrid and diseased blood, infusing it with mana and emotion to activate blood magic.
After all, blood remained blood.
[Blood Maiden]
In response to Oliver’s summons, the pool of blood on the ground coalesced around Human-meat Chef, taking on the form of a colossal vessel with a woman’s visage.
A massive blood vessel capable of easily engulfing a person.
As Oliver clenched his fist, the blood vessel expanded outward, swiftly enveloping Human-meat Chef.
Chef, confident in his own abilities, showed minimal reaction. Nonetheless, Oliver, undaunted, manipulated the blood vessel to sprout numerous spikes both inside and out.
Spikes made of blood.
Boom!!
With a resounding noise, the spikes densely penetrated from all sides.
Despite the blood vessel being as resilient as steel of similar thickness, Oliver, who had direct control over the blood magic, sensed that his assault hadn’t fully penetrated.
There was no feeling of resistance.
Validating this sensation, something within the blood-formed vessel began to bulge and swell, ultimately bursting forth with a tearing sound akin to the rending of metal.
Shaaang!!
It was a blade forged from sheer fury.
Human-meat Chef had infused his tumultuous emotions, particularly malice, into this emotional blade. The blade of wrath shattered the blood vessel and extended in all directions.
Even with the blood vessel’s robustness, the potency of this rage-infused blade was astonishing.
However, what proved even more astonishing was Human-meat Chef’s physical integrity. Despite being impaled by dozens of spikes as substantial as pillars, his body remained unblemished.
“Now, it’s my turn.”
Human-meat Chef, controlling the blades of emotion that had created deep puncture wounds in the buildings and the earth around, directed them toward Oliver.
Gigantic black blades hurtled at him from all angles.
Attempting to evade, Oliver realized that Chef had infused his emotions into his cleaver and French knife, ready to exploit any gap in his defense.
‘Will this work?’
With this question in mind, Oliver heightened his control over the emotions and divided his robe into several segments, using them to wrap around the incoming slashes, absorbing their impact.
This allowed Oliver to sense Human-meat Chef’s anger not just visually but also through his skin.
Years of accumulated powerlessness and betrayal.
Utilizing his robe, Oliver transferred the absorbed slashes to his dagger and hurled it with all his might toward Human-meat Chef.
Unfazed and sporting a wild grin, Chef launched his own strike at Oliver, and soon the two attacks collided.
Boom!!
Surprisingly, Oliver’s strike overwhelmed Chef’s attack, enveloping him completely.
This outcome was somewhat expected, considering that Oliver’s assault was fueled not only by Chef’s emotions but also by the emotions Oliver had extracted.
As the dust settled, Oliver could observe the aftermath of his attack: a deep trench in the ground filled with blood and the shattered remnants of Chef’s kitchen knife.
However, Human-meat Chef remained unharmed, standing as he had emerged from the blood vessel.
“This is the end-“
-[Blood Wedge]
Oliver invoked blood magic on his previously disregarded quarterstaff and hurled it toward Human-meat Chef.
The quarterstaff, having absorbed as much surrounding blood as possible, transformed into a colossal wedge-shaped projectile, hurtling toward Chef with the force capable of splitting anything in its path.
Yet, even without his kitchen knife, Human-meat Chef made no attempt to evade. Instead, he radiated even greater confidence and channeled power into one of his arms.
His arm swelled with muscles, sprouting scales and claws, resembling more a reptile than a human.
With a single swing of his arm, he shattered Oliver’s blood magic into fragments, relying solely on sheer physical might.
Anticipating this turn of events to some extent, Oliver retrieved his quarterstaff, while Human-meat Chef, brimming with self-assuredness, inquired,
“Got any more efforts left?!”
“Haah… I’m hungry.”
With escalating hunger and fatigue clouding his mind, Oliver responded, yearning for sustenance.
***
“Damn it.”
In the heart of Ravel, now indistinguishable from a battlefield, Kevin, a professor and master of the magic tower, muttered vehemently under his breath.
Because it was, quite literally, a dire situation.
“I did?”
“Make such a demand…?”
“Is that what happened?”
A disheveled wizard, a druid shrouded in a bear’s pelt, and a warlock with a hunched back responded one by one, finishing each other’s sentences.
Listening to this was vexing, but what troubled Kevin even more was the reality that only one individual stood before them, quite literally.
To put it more bluntly, it was Puppet.
“Thank you for believing me so easily.”
“Many people don’t believe my words.”
“It’s made things much quicker.”
Puppet, controlling three corpses simultaneously, spoke.
Although Kevin had reservations about accepting it, he chose to confront the situation pragmatically.
“There’s no one else who can handle such powerful corpse dolls except for Puppet.”
Kevin spoke informally. This wasn’t the time for formalities or politeness when facing such an adversary, especially one who could prove to be an obstacle in these desperate times, with the possibility of the gates of hell opening.
“What I want is simple.”
“Don’t go any further into the city center.”
“Then, I won’t harm anyone else. No one.”
To emphasize his point, numerous corpses were arranged around the corpse dolls.
To begin with, the ragged wizard was seated atop a small mound of bodies, the druid was surrounded by torn corpses, and the warlock was sprawled beside a collection of corpses arranged like specimens, being devoured by voracious pouches.
In total, there were approximately two hundred corpses.
Among them were scholars from Rokuri University, law enforcement officers, military personnel, followers of Human-meat Chef, and civilians.
Just as he had proclaimed, he was excluding anyone attempting to enter Zone 1 from harm.
Kevin maintained his composure and assessed the strength of his allies.
Beside him stood Terence, armed with military gear, Yareli, who had arrived with Oliver’s assistance, and roughly a dozen wizards from Rokuri University, forming a cohesive team.
All of them were combat-ready, constituting an impressive force.
This assembly had successfully vanquished multiple units of Human-meat Chef’s followers and defeated numerous interdimensional creatures.
Kevin himself, aided by a Salamander, had even single-handedly taken down three giants.
A force capable of facing formidable adversaries.
However, despite their prowess, Kevin couldn’t advance further.
He had an instinctive sense that the three corpse dolls before them posed a greater threat than they could handle.
A wizard, a druid, and a warlock. Their peculiar combination aside, each possessed menacing abilities.
Kevin mentally organized the situation.
Human-meat Chef sought to exploit the city’s turmoil to open the gates of hell. Oliver had ventured alone to thwart him, and Puppet blocked the surroundings, obstructing external interference.
It was a perplexing scenario.
“I have just one question. Are you stopping us to open the gates of hell?”
Puppet replied.
“No, I’m not particularly interested in hell or anything like that.”
“I just want to watch.”
“And kill those who try to interfere. What will you do?”
Kevin contemplated deeply, silently communicating with Terence to determine the best course of action given the circumstances.
Their shared battlefield experience enabled them to understand each other’s intentions without the need for words.
“If we don’t enter, would you leave us be, regardless of what else we do?”
Yareli appeared taken aback by this unexpected query.
Puppet responded with composure.
“As I said before… If you don’t interfere, I won’t do anything.”
“On what grounds can we trust you?”
“My current inaction.”
Puppet declared confidently, convincing Kevin.
“We’re turning back… Terence. Send an emergency signal using the communication device and tell everyone to gather at the university. Explain the situation and then evacuate out of the city immediately.”
Kevin stated firmly as he began retracing his steps.
Yareli, who had been silently listening, finally voiced her thoughts.
“Aren’t we going to help Zenon?”
“No, this is helping him. Involving Puppet any further would actually be the opposite.”
Upon hearing Kevin’s explanation, Yareli fell silent.
Yareli, typically composed and logical, although slightly agitated now, recognized that Kevin’s decision was the right one.
The most effective way to aid Zenon at this point was to withdraw and refrain from further entanglement.
“So, we do what we can. Help those we can save to escape from a potential disaster… Is there anything wrong with my thinking?”
None of the wizards from Rokuri University, including Yareli, voiced any objections.
Given the current circumstances, this was the most prudent course of action.
With their experience and judgment, they understood that confronting Puppet would be a formidable challenge.
In fact, it was perilous. Who knew what other types of Corpse dolls lurked beyond the ones they had just encountered.
Intervening now would be akin to adding fuel to the fire.
“So informing Rokuri University about this situation and getting the civilians we’ve rescued, and those we can rescue, out of the city is the best we can do.”
“But… Zenon.”
Yareli muttered with distress. It appeared that she felt a profound debt to Oliver for his assistance.
However, a student remained a student.
While Terence was consoling Yareli, Kevin spoke resolutely.
“Sorry, but from here on, it’s Zenon’s part to handle. There’s nothing more we can do.”
