Chapter 113
Chapter 113
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 113
Chapter Title: Duncan (2)
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Bwoong-! Bwoong! Buuuuwooooong—————Boom!!!!
"Oh ho....!"
Oliver let out a gasp of admiration at the shattered multiple Black Shields as he quickly retreated backward.
Duncan, wielding a club shaped like the letter ㅓ, was undeniably strong—strength befitting Edith's close aide and a former Pinkman executive.
'Honestly, I wondered just how strong he was, but now I get it. Pinkman is no joke.'
With that thought, Oliver pulled back.
The moment his feet touched the ground, Duncan charged forward with all his might, closing the distance in an instant.
"......!"
He was the fastest opponent Oliver had ever faced—honestly, it was tough to keep up.
Each of his attacks was swift and menacing.
[Thrust]
Shockwave attack
Oliver fired a shockwave, striking Duncan.
He had blocked Hate Bullets with his freakish reflexes, so Oliver opted for an area attack instead of a pinpoint one—and thankfully, it worked.
Though it only barely caught his ankle.
"Hmph......!"
"Even that could've shattered a cement wall..."
Oliver remarked as he watched Duncan withstand the shockwave.
His body was extraordinarily tough, and with vast magical power on top of that, inflicting damage was no easy feat.
But what if he focused on a single point instead of a broad impact?
[Shadow Spike]
Piercing shadow stakes
Oliver's shadow stretched forward, spiking up rapidly from beneath Duncan's feet.
The shadow stakes targeted his ankles, abdomen, chest, and jaw individually, but Duncan rode the momentum of the shockwave to dodge backward swiftly, then swung his club to smash them apart.
Oliver was stumped.
His straightforward yet effective plan—pin the ankle and vision with the shockwave, then finish with Shadow Spike in that opening—had only bought him some distance.
Sure, it gave him a breather against an opponent as intimidating up close as Duncan, but it was still frustrating.
'Hmm.......'
Oliver pondered inwardly as he watched Duncan casually twirl his club—bwoong-! bwoong-!
He looked pretty relaxed. Or was that to be expected?
He dodged or swatted Hate Bullets, endured Wrath Boom with magic power, and shadow-based black magic naturally didn't faze him.
Relying on Black Shield for close combat didn't appeal either.
No, it was the last thing he wanted.
High firepower plus melee skills well beyond average—if that swift club connected even once, it'd stun him, and any follow-up would turn him into minced meat.
Where the puppet in the contaminated zone had been an enemy of endless depth, Duncan was a lethal, suffocating threat.
A single slip could cost his life.
In a way, this was worse.
There were no reversal elements like the gateway to hell or artificial souls he'd glimpsed against the puppet.
So, for Oliver to survive now, he had to mine every possible path to victory from his current emotions and situation.
There was a way, but it needed more time.
As he mulled over what to say to draw Duncan out, the man spoke first.
"...You're pretty skilled."
"...Thank you?"
"No joke."
Indeed. He meant it.
"I've faced nearly a hundred black mages, some famous ones too... You're impressive even compared to them. Considering your age, your potential's off the charts. Be a shame to kill you like this."
"Thanks for the praise."
"I'm serious. What a waste. Ending up here after scraping by on the streets... Here's a proposal. Join me?"
An unexpected offer. Oliver was taken aback.
He hadn't anticipated it mid-fight, but more surprising was that it wasn't a mere ploy.
Duncan was sincere.
"Just now, thanks to you, I lost two key people I had my eye on. Fill those spots. I'll treat you better than they got."
Oliver kept his guard up but seized the breather to ask.
"Mm... You mean Scott and Nina?"
"Yeah, so you're not clueless."
"Really? That's a relief. People around me say I'm oblivious... Mind if I ask something?"
"What?"
"Is the reason you're after Miss Jane to start your own agency like Pinkman?"
Oliver asked to confirm.
He was sure, but he wanted to hear it from the man himself—though Duncan's emotions answered first.
"...Yeah. Problem?"
"No. Just doesn't make sense. She trusted you a lot... Why betray her?"
"You care about that?"
"Yes, I'm curious. Answer, and I'll respond to your offer."
Oliver raised both hands as he spoke.
It was partly to stall, but he genuinely wanted to hear the answer.
Jane trusted Duncan, and entrusting her to him meant Edith trusted him too.
So why the sudden betrayal? He was curious.
Duncan hesitated, then spoke. He seemed quite taken with Oliver.
"...To achieve my dream."
"...Starting an agency?"
"No, that's just a tool for my dream. Know about Pinkman Agency?"
"A little."
"Whatever you heard is just the tip. They operate in the light, but thrive more in the shadows—for politicians, CEOs, tycoons who need them. That's how Pinkman wields client influence, becoming another power broker in this city, this country."
"...You want that power?"
"Exactly. Like everyone else."
"Ah..."
Oliver marveled at his own comprehension. It used to take him longer to grasp such talks.
"I don't plan to waste my life as some grunt or lackey. I want to be a big shot, risks be damned... If Edith had left even a token gift after 20 years of my service, I wouldn't be doing this. But fear of her impending death made her lose her senses—she's even trying to carve up the fortune we built together. Not many options left... I need my share."
"So you sided with the family instead of Edith?"
"...A black mage judging me?"
Oliver shook his head sincerely.
"No. Just confirming. I don't think I'm in a position to judge... That dream seems vital. Any special reason?"
"No, my turn for answers. Want the rest? Join me first. I won't skimp on the terms. I'll show you a world street life can't touch."
A promise was a promise. Oliver thought it over seriously.
"Mm... Sorry, I'll pass. Organization life feels off to me. Working like Pinkman means attacking laborers too, right? I'm a black mage."
"Fool. We can cover that easy."
"I see..."
Oliver lapsed into thought again. He recalled Kant forming a new beggar crew in the sewers.
"...Still no. Sorry."
"Fine... Then die."
Fury at being tricked twisted Duncan's face into cold resolve as he charged Oliver.
Still fast, but Oliver was getting used to it. He timed dense Shadow Spikes perfectly.
[Shadow Spike]
Dense piercing stakes
Slender shadow stakes rose thick as a wall. Duncan halted at the last second with superb reflexes, swinging his club to snap them like matchsticks.
The broken shadows lost power, reverting to normal.
As Duncan moved to advance, something snagged his ankle—Oliver's shadow tentacles.
He'd deliberately lowered their output to avoid detection; they were fragile enough to snap with slight effort.
But that was enough for Oliver.
Snap- snap-
A Black Cube—six Black Shields linked—encased Duncan.
Unfazed, Duncan poured vast magic into his ㅓ-shaped club, preparing a mighty swing.
"...??"
He paused mid-swing, spotting the minion inside the Black Cube. And then...
—————Boom!!!!
The minion, packed with Wrath Boom, detonated.
A black magic combo Oliver had improvised against the puppet before.
It limited collateral from powerful blasts while concentrating damage on the cubed foe.
He couldn't gauge the exact damage, but it surely landed.
Still, Oliver stayed vigilant.
His will wouldn't break from an explosion.
In one breath, Oliver extracted emotions to spawn four minions.
He fed them Hate Bullets; as they formed, wreathed in red flames and black smoke, they unleashed a barrage toward him.
Pew-pew-pew-pew-pew-pew-pew-pew-pew-pew-pew-pew-pew-pew-pew-pew pew—————!!!!!!
Hate Bullets poured like machine-gun fire.
Individually weak, but their overwhelming number left Duncan no escape.
"Raaarghhhhhhh——!!!!"
Duncan roared, charging Oliver.
He gathered his vast inner magic into armor-like layers. Wasteful, but effective—it withstood the minions' Hate Bullets.
Like an armored vehicle. Oliver had accounted for it, forming a Hate Bullet at his fingertip.
The most basic black magic: Hate Bullet.
Basic of basics, yet its power soared with emotion quality and user skill—lethal and versatile against living foes.
Recalling this, Oliver compressed his hatred with all his might.
'More... more... more...'
Intensely repulsive hatred multiplied in power when compressed, but it demanded time.
Just a bit more, and it'd pierce Duncan's magic armor—but Duncan was slightly faster.
That was why Oliver hadn't used Hate Bullets this way before.
Yet he chose it now because something would buy that missing time.
"Grahhhhhh...!!"
"Grahk...! Grahk...!"
"Snap- snap- snap- snap- snap- snap- snap-"
"Keehiiiii———!"
Oliver's corpse doll vaulted the wall into view.
This was the pivotal timing for which he'd held it back, facing Pinkman alone.
Only one melee type among them, but the rest had high defense and mass—perfect momentary shields.
In that gap, Oliver planned to fire the compressed Hate Bullet for a fatal blow.
A sure plan striking where least expected.
But apparently, Oliver wasn't the only one thinking ahead.
"[Holy Light]"
⟨ Holy Light ⟩
With Duncan's incantation, holy light enveloped the area.
"......Huh?"